


Stormseeker: Scrolls of Divinity

by Serriya (Keolah)



Series: Codex Veritatum [7]
Category: Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: CHIM - Freeform, Dimension Travel, Elder Scrolls Lore, Gods, Immortality, M/M, Multi, POV First Person, Philosophy, Present Tense, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-08-25 20:22:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16667680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keolah/pseuds/Serriya
Summary: The alternate universe the dimension-traveling Nerevarine has found himself in seems peaceful at first. But that peaceful world is unprepared for the Oblivion Crisis. He and his companions must travel to different possible timelines to seek out answers, and the secrets of the multiverse.





	1. Crisis

I am Lexen Chelseer, the Stormseeker, the Nerevarine, and a bunch of other pretentious titles I don't really give a fuck about. I've gone by many names throughout many lifetimes, among which include Harry Potter and Darth Revan. It tends to be easier to think of it simply as 'I' rather than anything else.

The world before me is peaceful and beautiful. A fervent wish and the heart of a dead god brought about an alternate universe in which Voryn Dagoth never went mad. Red Mountain is a garden of plenty rather than a wasteland of monsters. And yet, for all the changes, the world seems much the same, if softer and happier. The people and places I knew are still there. The twist of history sometimes brings things back in the same direction.

One day in this new, peaceful life of study, I am relaxing having a drink in the South Wall Cornerclub in Balmora, when a frantic Khajiit runs inside babbling something about the city being under attack. Alarmed and instantly sober, I spring to my feet and rush to the door.

At the north end of town near the Tribunal Temple stands a swirling red gateway framed by a spiky black arch. Creatures are pouring out of it, slaughtering people. Armored dremora armed with dark blades cut down the unprepared guards. Even the little scamps are making short work of helpless citizens.

I conjure a pair of bound swords to my hands and charge in, shimmering purple blades sweeping through the air toward my enemies. I'm still more intoxicated than I'd realized and not expecting a fight, so I get cut down pretty quickly.

* * *

Damnit, really? Dying is obnoxious under the best of circumstances, but dying because my drinking got interrupted by random daedra attack is doubly so. I find myself several hours prior, inside my own demiplane of Oblivion, before I'd even gone into the cornerclub. At least I'm fucking sober, but I'm not sure having a warning will actually help all that much. I'll have to gather my friends to defend Balmora.

Some of my aforementioned friends are in the common area of the Marauder's Portable Pleasure Palace. Arranging for Sanguine to grant us the use of one of his Myriad Realms of Revelry tends to be one of the first things we do in a loop, as it's very convenient. This time around we made more portable gates to it than usual, since we were scattered all over Tamriel doing various things. Getting across Tamriel by any means other than teleportation is tedious.

"We have to get to Mournhold," Kirlin says, red eyes frantic. "An Oblivion gate is about to open there."

"Mournhold?" Tom repeats with a swish of his reptilian tail. "One is about to open near Wayrest."

"And Balmora," I put in with a frown.

"And Kvatch," Abraxas adds, scowling.

The room goes silent for a long moment.

"This is bad," Hermione says.

Rispy's whiskers twitch. "You don't say."

"Okay, I guess it's probably safe to say that there's Oblivion gates opening all over Tamriel, and not that we're just spectacularly unlucky to have all been in precisely the wrong places at the right time," I say. "I mean, we _are_ spectacularly unlucky sometimes, but that's statistically improbable."

"Did we do something to trigger this somehow?" Hermione wonders.

"Or how long exactly has this been in the works?" Tom asks.

"Hard to say," I muse. "But one thing is clear, that just a few hours preparation and even us all congregating in one spot isn't going to be nearly enough to help. We might be able to deal with _one_ Oblivion gate ourselves. But how many of them are going to open?"

"We'll need to go back further," Tom says.

"Is there really a point to it if we don't know what the cause of this crisis is?" I ask.

"Yes, we need to do research and find out what's going on before we can go back," Abraxas says.

"That'll mean a lot of people will be killed," Kirlin says. "And a lot of places will be destroyed."

"If that's what needs to be done, then so be it," Abraxas says.

Luna looks off distantly, but says nothing.

"Brax is right," Tom says. "I know it will be hard on some of you, seeing that, but if we are to gather information about this crisis, then it has to be done."

"Brax, have your contacts with the Blades said anything about being concerned about something?" I ask.

Abraxas nods. "They think the Emperor's sons may be in danger. I was just about to get some more information when Kvatch was attacked. I'll avoid the Oblivion gate there and get back to my superiors and find out what's going on — or what may have already happened."

I nod tersely. "You're probably in the best position for that, then. I'll go to Vivec and see if anything can be done on that end. Tom, can you fill in Remus and Sirius when you see them? I'll find Gellert. He's probably passed out drunk and entirely missed the reset."

"I'm with the Stormseeker," Luna says.

Luna and I head back out of our gate to Balmora and find Gellert sleeping off his own intoxication in a side room in our headquarters.

"Sorry about this, Gellert." I cast a quick spell to remove the alcohol from his bloodstream. That spell would be more useful if it were possible to cast while drunk.

Upon being shaken away, Gellert mumbles, "Wha'ss goin' on? We un'er attack? Be'er be un'er 'tack if you woke me up…"

"No, but we're going to be in about three hours," I say. "And stop talking drunk. You're not actually drunk anymore."

Gellert blinks a few times, and casts a quick wakefulness spell, all tiredness gone from his eyes. "Fill me in. What's going on? We're about to be attacked _here_?"

"No, not _here_ ," I say. "But Oblivion gates are about to open up all over Tamriel and daedra come through and start killing people everywhere."

"Well, fuck," Gellert says.

"Plan is to gather information and then reset to far enough back that we can prevent it," I say.

"That'll probably require going all the way back," Gellert says.

"If that's what's necessary, then so be it," I say. "A few years should be enough, I'm sure. First, we're visiting Vivec."

"The Warrior-Poet may not be able to help," Luna says quietly.

"So be it," I say. "We still need to talk to him. I don't expect him to actually _do_ anything."

We make our way to Vivec City via a quick chain of various teleport spells and relays, and head up the excessive number of stairs to Vivec's palace. The Living God is hovering in the center of the room in a lotus position, again. He opens his eyes and looks over at us from a face that's half Chimer-golden and half Dunmer-gray.

"Nerevar," Vivec says.

"Vehk," I reply. "Are you aware of what's about to happen?"

"Vaguely," Vivec says. "An intractable crisis. Certain doom?"

"That's not a cheerful estimation," I say.

"I cannot say," Vivec says, shaking his head. "I can save Vvardenfell."

"Is that all?" I ask.

"To save the rest of Tamriel will take a Hero, not a God," Vivec says. "Perhaps you or your friends could be the right Hero, at the right place, in the right time. But do you know what that place and time might be?"

I sigh. "No."

"If you think you can save this world still, then do so," Vivec says. "If you must let it perish that other worlds might yet be saved, then so be it. I will remove Vvardenfell from the world." He cocks his head. "I would not have had the power to do so in another timeline, one in which I did not have access to my source of power for whatever reason."

"There's no time to evacuate the rest of Morrowind to Vvardenfell or anything, if they'd even go," I say. "Best hurry."

Vivec nods. "Take your gates and your companions and leave this area. You won't be able to return here once I've separated it from the rest of the world."

"Noted," I say.

Luna dances lightly up to him and gives him a kiss on the golden cheek. "Be well, Vehk and Vehk. Keep your people safe. The strand of hope can still come of a doomed world."

* * *

Tamriel is under attack. Vvardenfell has vanished into mists, and any ships that try to sail across the Inner Sea find nothing. People are dying. Entire cities have fallen to the daedra. There is no sign of a hero, and I think our chance at salvation has already passed.

Vvardenfell never reappears, and the world burns. Pockets of survivors still fight, desperately, but mostly people just try to hide. It ultimately comes down to me and my friends retreating to our demiplane and ensuring that our own gates are sealed from the other side so that any of the attacking daedra can't come through to bother us. We hadn't had much contact with one another since the start of the war, if you can really call this massacre a 'war'.

"The Emperor and his sons were murdered on the eve of the crisis," Abraxas says. "They were already dead by the time we woke on that day."

I nod. "I was afraid of that."

"If there's a Hero in this world, they already failed," Sirius grumbles. " _We_ already failed."

I sigh. "I know."

"I haven't even been able to find out anything of use," Abraxas says. "It's frustrating. Every time I think we're getting close to an answer, it slips away. Blades are dying or just plain failing. I cannot believe the _incompetence_ of the people in this world."

I hmm thoughtfully. "Maybe that's it."

"What's it?" Abraxas asks.

"Maybe there's something inherently wrong with this world that has caused it to be doomed," I say. "Beyond even that this Oblivion Crisis happened at all. I think that would likely have happened regardless."

"People are weak here," Tom says. "Soft. They were not hardened by struggle — they had far, far fewer struggles in their history than in the previous timeline. Once-bitter wars became nothing more than mild skirmishes. They forgot how to fight. If anything, the Empire did _too_ good a job of keeping the peace, and Voryn Dagoth's efforts ensured that the Dunmer wouldn't even have anything to struggle against in Morrowind, either.

"It's incredible how one little change kept so much the same but changed such fundamental things," I say quietly.

"The Three Banners War never happened," Tom goes on. "The Akaviri invasion got dealt with swiftly and without fanfare by Vivec himself, before they even had a chance to hurt anyone."

"Yes," Hermione says. "There were so many differences, large and small, through the history books. Whatever you did set off a massive chain reaction that led to this parallel universe."

"So, what you're saying is, we either need to reset to a fresh timeline with the baseline starting parameters, or return to our position in the alpha timeline where we left it," I say.

Tom muses, "There doesn't seem to be much chance of saving the beta timeline here without knowing one very precise spot that could help. We missed our window of opportunity already. Tamriel is burning. Even if we stop the Oblivion Crisis _now_ , which we have no means of doing, there isn't much left to save." He rubs his snout. "It's probably just as well to head back to the alpha timeline. I've been finding my investigations useless in this time frame. The Direnni won't deal with me no matter what we do. And they resist my mental powers."

"So that's it?" I say. "We're going back? I don't like having created this timeline just to abandon it."

"You created it by accident," Tom says. "And do please quit with the 'abandoning' nonsense already. I thought you'd finally gotten over that. If it means that much to you, we'll find a way to save it. But either way, we have to leave. We can stay safe here in Oblivion until Sanguine decides we're too gloomy and kicks us out, but I doubt he's going to be getting anymore house guests from Tamriel again anytime soon. But we're not going to be able to accomplish much of anything from here. There isn't even any point in leaving a temporal Mark here. When and if we decide to come back, it ought to be to my Mark, at the starting point."

"Fine," I say. "I suppose it's too much to hope for to create a timeline in which everyone is safe and happy and free."

Tom snorts softly. "Yes. Yes it is."

"But two out of three ain't bad," Gellert puts in.

"I can dream, can't I?" I say.

"Perhaps one day you will dream up the perfect world," Luna says with a distant smile.

"Let's go back to Luna's Mark, then," I say. "The one we had at the furthest point in the alpha timeline we'd gotten to. We already had a lot of setup there, and resources we can use."

"Now to just remember what in Oblivion we were doing there…" Gellert mutters.

" _I_ remember," Tom says. "Yes, that's a good plan."

"Luna, if you would do the honors?" I say. "I see no point in staying here any longer."

"Of course, Stormseeker." Luna smiles dreamily. "Let's go."

Luna stands and goes through the motions of the Temporal Recall spell we'd devised. It's not _quite_ as simple as my own reflexive time travel back to that last point I'd slept whenever I die. But it still calls upon my own ability to cast my soul through time and space, and thanks to the soul tapestry we'd woven in that last world where I was Harry Potter, my magic considers us all to have the same soul.

The palace vanished from around us, to be replaced by one very similar, but very different. We never decorated the place in precisely the same way, in part so that it was easier to tell at a glance which timeline we were in, and in part because it would have gotten dreadfully dull to be looking at the same surroundings for eternity. In this timeline, the common room was decked out in Ravenclaw colors, blue and bronze, while in the previous one we'd used Hufflepuff colors, yellow and black.

"Here we are," Luna says brightly. "Here and now."

I stumble a little as I rise, startled by the sudden physical change. I'm taller in this timeline, and more… gold-colored and pointy-eared. I'm a Chimer here and now, and I bear the face of Nerevar, my past life. Sometimes it's difficult to keep timelines straight. I run over in my mind the events of this timeline we've wound up in, but aside from building a Geneforge to cure the corprus disease and thereby turning those affected by it into members of the long-lost Chimer race, the details slip from my mind. I've been through so many iterations and minor variations of each timeline that sometimes I can't even be sure what name I'm using at any given moment. At the point Luna's Mark was set, we'd just discovered a means by which my soulmates can set their own temporal Marks, giving us nine points we can jump back to rather than a single one, thereby offering much greater flexibility and letting us avoid sacrificing whatever progress we'd made in a given timeline by having to fully restart.

"So, how long do we have until the Oblivion Crisis kicks in in _this_ timeline, assuming it starts on the same date…" I muse. "It starts in during year 433 of the Third Era, so we still have a few years."

"Assuming it happens at the same time, or at all," Tom says.

"Well, we could always assume the worst and imagine that it could take place at any time in the immediate future," I say. "But that's not exactly going to change whatever we might do."

Tom shrugs. "True."

"Where do we even start?" Remus wonders.

"By getting drunk." I climb to my feet.

Remus groans. "That can't be your solution to everything."

"Not really, no," I say. "Would it help if I phrased it as going to my favorite pub to 'gather information'?"

"I can help!" Gellert puts in.

"I'll make sure you don't pass out and get murdered stupidly," Rispy says.

"I'll try not to pass out in the first place," I say with a smirk.


	2. Dark Brotherhood

I'm on my third mug of shein when Rispy comes into the cornerclub covered in blood. This is apparently a common enough occurrence that the other patrons in the pub barely even glance up from what they're doing.

"Ugh, damnit, Rispy," the barkeep grumbles. "You're getting blood on my floor again."

Rispy looks at him with an unapologetic smirk before turning to me. "It was the Dark Brotherhood."

"What?" I ask flatly.

"I'd ask if you know who you might have pissed off lately, but it's you I'm talking to here," Rispy says. "Curious, however, that it was the Dark Brotherhood and not the Morag Tong."

"The Morag Tong know better than to mess with me for less than a king's ransom," I say.

"Yes, these fellows weren't too competent or too bright," Rispy says. "I don't know what they were hoping to accomplish. They were probably waiting until you went to sleep and I managed to ambush them before they could ambush you."

"But I don't sleep," I say.

"Yeah, I know that, and you know that, but _they_ don't know that," Rispy says. "To be fair, sometimes you do pass out for one reason or another, that reason usually being alcohol."

"Not _that_ often," I protest weakly.

"Still, they're likely to keep coming," Rispy says. "They won't be discouraged that I just dismembered a couple of their agents. They're stupid like that."

"You've had dealings with them before?" I ask.

"Do you really want to know?" Rispy asks.

" _Yes_ , damnit," I mutter, rolling my eyes. "Quit being so cagey. I've got a privacy spell up, if you're worried about that."

"Okay, fine," Rispy says. "I might have joined them before."

"What?" I say. "Why?"

Rispy shrugs. "I was bored."

"Well, that's fair," I say.

"More importantly, who do we need to beat up to get them to bugger off?" Gellert asks.

"That's an excellent question and one I can't answer," Rispy says.

"I'll go ask Caius," I say."

"Caius already went back to the Imperial City in this time frame," Gellert says.

"Okay, then I'll go ask… that guy down at the fort that once had me beat up some bad people," I say. "I did _that_ in this timeline, didn't I?"

"Probably?" Gellert says.

"It seems like the sort of thing you would do," Rispy says.

I cast a quick spell to clean up the mess Rispy made on the floor and toss the barkeep a tip. It's always nice to tip the barkeep who doesn't report you to the guards for murder, on the way to talk to a guard who gave you a tip for murder. After some looking and Naming Charms, I locate one Larrius Varro in Fort Moonmoth. That name sounds familiar.

"Can I help you with something?" Larrius says, no sign of recognition on his face.

"Ah, right, I look different now," I say. "I'm the one you told a little bedtime story to a while back, about some bad people and an adorable little bloodbath."

"Hmm, I might recall something like that," Larrius muses.

"At any rate, I'd like to report an attack by the Dark Brotherhood," I say. "They may have tried to kill me. Needless to say, they failed." Not that it's very needless to say when talking about _me_ , but I'm not complaining to _this_ particular person about being murdered at the moment.

"The Dark Brotherhood?" Larrius says, raising his eyebrows. "That's serious, indeed. I'm impressed that you survived."

"They weren't actually that impressive," Rispy puts in.

Larrius chuckles. "To you, perhaps. I've never seen a Khajiit quite so well-armed as you."

Rispy shrugs. "I'll concede your point."

"I suggest you speak with Apelles Matius, in Ebonheart," Larrius says. "I've heard tell that he's been growing concerned about Dark Brotherhood activity. He patrols the battlements."

"Okay then," I say. "I guess that's a place to start. I have no idea who, specifically, would want me dead badly enough that they wouldn't send the Morag Tong, Camonna Tong, or whoever after me. Why can't I get attacked by the Camonna Tong instead? I know why _they_ hate me, at least. I've certainly killed enough of them."

We make our way to Ebonheart and locate one Apelles Matius by use of casting Naming Charms at everyone in the entire fucking city until we find him. Turns out he's walking up on the battlements and that was the last place we thought to look after scouring the whole city. I suppose a Time Mage shouldn't be complaining about a waste of time, but why can't _anyone_ in Vvardenfell give sensible directions?

"He _did_ tell us to look on the battlements," Rispy says.

"Why didn't you stop me sooner, then?" I ask.

"Luna went off to the church while you weren't looking," Rispy says. "I'm guessing she's been doing a better job of getting in with the Imperial Cult than you have."

"I've been busy," I grouse. "Besides, I don't really care all that much."

"Most of us have actually gotten a lot of promotions in our various factions," Rispy says.

"Except me," Gellert adds brightly.

I smirk. "Losing that duel and having to join House Redoran does include actually doing missions for them sometimes, you know."

"Yeah, yeah." Gellert waves a hand dismissively. "Let's just talk to the bloke and kill some people."

"Are you Apelles Matius?" I ask the man unnecessarily.

"That's me. What do you need?"

"I've been having trouble with the Dark Brotherhood and was told to talk to you," I say.

"You're looking pretty healthy for someone who's been targeted by the Dark Brotherhood," Apelles comments.

"Yes, well, turns out having a heavily armed Khajiit as a bodyguard comes in handy," I say.

"This one spotted them coming and ambushed them first," Rispy says, putting on a Khajiit accent. "Really, why do they have to wear armor that screams 'assassin' while skulking about conspicuously?"

I'm not at all ungrateful for that. Yes, I could have taken them out myself, but I'd have died at least twice in the process. That's just the way my luck goes, even when it's _not_ being bad. The initial ambush would have definitely caught me off-guard.

"You sure it was you they were after, and not someone else in the building?" Apelles asks.

"It was probably me," I say. "I don't think they'd have bothered for anyone lower-profile in there."

If someone had it out for Sugar-Lips Habasi, the local Thieves Guild boss, they could have just called the guards and not the assassins.

"I've heard the Dark Brotherhood has been trying to expand their 'business' into Morrowind," Apelles says. "Word is that they've set up shop in Mournhold."

"Mournhold is quite a fair ways from Balmora," I say.

Gellert suggests, "Maybe they dressed up in robes, used the Mages Guild Guides, and then changed into their stupid assassin gear when they arrived?"

I roll my eyes. "And that sounds like a splendid plan for getting to Mournhold without having to use a boat."

"You can talk to Asciene Rane," Apelles says. "She can teleport you there."

"Great," I say. "Where can I find her?" I don't really feel the need to wander all over Ebonheart again casting Naming Charms on everyone.

"Check the Grand Council Chambers," Apelles says, pointing toward a large stone building.

I proceed to head inside, discover that it's even larger than it looked, and get completely lost inside. I wind up passing Duke Vedam Dren at least three times, with him looking at us all the more incredulously each time.

"I'm starting to think that they're not bad at giving directions so much as that you're bad at following them," Gellert says.

"No, they're totally bad at giving directions, too," Rispy says.

* * *

The trip to Mournhold results in a massive bloodbath in the sewers, a few stupid deaths, and having to bring in some backup in order to fully clear out the Dark Brotherhood stronghold. Why there were quite so many would-be assassins hanging around below Mournhold is beyond me. After sifting through the place, we run across a suspicious-looking note.

"Why do these people always leave incriminating notes laying around for people to find?" I wonder.

"To be fair, they probably don't care anymore," Gellert comments, gesturing at the mangled bodies laying about the cave.

"Yes, well, what if I were a spy, or a traitor, or just someone must more stealthy than I actually am?" I ask. "Also, whoever this is that's mentioned in this note might care that his hired blades were so sloppy."

"Let me see that," Hermione says, taking the note. "Hmm. It says that a Chimer claiming to be Nerevar is to be killed in the name of 'H'."

"Could be you," Gellert says with a grin. "Did you hire a bunch of assassins just to give us something to kill?"

Hermione snorts softly. "No. And there's an awful lot of people whose names start with H."

"Provided they even used the correct initial in the first place," I say.

"If they were going to use an assumed name, they'd have made up something different entirely," Tom says. "People who think they're being clever use their own initials."

"So we're clearly dealing with someone who thinks they're clever but really isn't?" I wonder.

Sirius puts in, "Unless they're so clever that they'd come to the conclusion that someone would think they were too dumb not to use their own initials, and used a fake initial just to throw people off into thinking that they would obviously be too dumb not to use their own initial."

I blink at him. "That made precisely zero sense."

"I wonder if whoever it is realizes that you're also Harry Potter," Tom says. "Or if they had you attacked just because you're claiming to be the Nerevarine."

"Well, either way, let's make a list of people whose names start with H that I could have conceivably offended somehow. Sugar-Lips Habasi—"

"—wouldn't call the Dark Brotherhood," Sirius says.

"Hassour Zainsubani…" I go on.

"Do you _really_ think an Ashlander would call the Dark Brotherhood?" Rispy asks with a smirk.

"Hasphat Antabolis," I add.

"Wasn't that the guy who wanted Dwemer artifacts?" Gellert asks.

"Or, or… Huleeya!" I suggest.

"Are you even trying anymore?" Sirius says. "Okay, how about a short list of people whose names start with H who could have possibly _afforded_ to hire this many assassins."

"It was probably King Helseth," Hermione says, looking up from a scrap of parchment she was scribbling on.

"Who?" I wonder.

"You know, the king of Morrowind?" Hermione says.

"Morrowind has a king?" I say.

Hermione sighs and rolls her eyes. "Honestly, Harry, what sort of books have you been reading that you missed that?"

"Mostly philosophy?" I say.

"Anyway, King Helseth lives in Mournhold, could afford to hire an army of assassins, and might be offended at your existence somehow," Hermione says.

"Fair enough," I say. "Why don't we just take a little trip up to the king's palace or wherever it is he lives and ask him?"

"That sounds like a great plan," Gellert says. "After a bath, so we don't wind up talking to the king smelling like sewer."

"I don't know, walking in there dripping in blood and smelling like sewer might be making a good point that we just killed all of his assassins," I say. "Assuming that they're _his_ assassins, of course. Otherwise it would probably just get us thrown out, yes."

"Let's just go take a shower," Hermione says.

* * *

I cast a Magic Nap outside the palace so that we can readily reset to before we went inside. I have a ridiculous feeling that this is going to go very badly, very stupidly, or both. With Rispy to one side, Gellert on the other, and Luna trailing along behind us, I head into the royal palace of Mournhold.

No one by the name of Helseth is currently in the throne room. Well, I suppose I didn't really need to use the Naming Charm to check for that, considering if he were in here, he'd probably be dressed like a king and sitting on the throne. Rather than going to scour the palace and start breaking into locked rooms, I decide to approach a man who is wearing a fancier guard uniform than usual.

"Tienius Delitian?" I ask, approaching him.

"That's me," Tienius says. "What do you need?"

"I need to speak with you," I say. "Do you have a moment, Captain? Er, it _is_ captain, isn't it?"

"Yes, I am captain of the Royal Guards," Tienius says. "What is it?"

"You should be aware that there had been a large number of members of the Dark Brotherhood that had taken up residence beneath the city," I say. "You should also be aware that, barring any stragglers that might have fled when my team arrived, they are all dead."

A sour expression passes across Tienius' face. "Yes, thank you for that interesting piece of information."

"I don't suppose you would happen to know anything about who sent them, would you?" I ask pointedly.

"I won't deny it," Tienius says. "It's reasonable to wish to know who sent the assassins to kill you in your sleep. But I believe there are more pressing matters we need to speak of first."

I stare at him. "What… more pressing matters?" I pull out the note and thrust it at him. "You're aware that I'm quite sure that it was most likely King Helseth? I don't know of anyone else named 'H' who could afford to hire quite that many assassins."

Tienius barely glances at the scrap of paper. "I'll deny it publicly, but don't take it personally. Perhaps you appeared to present a threat to King Helseth. Perhaps a mistake has been made. But you could prove that it was a mistake if you can demonstrate your loyalty to King Helseth."

" _Loyalty_?" I retort. "I didn't even know who the fuck he was until today, until I find out he's apparently trying to have me killed for some reason. I don't give two fucks about him one way or another. If he'd just left me the fuck alone, I wouldn't have even bothered coming here or bothering _him_."

"So I take it you're not interested in helping me with a little problem?" Tienius asks.

I sigh heavily. "That would depend. _What_ problem? Do you need someone else killed, now that I've proven more competent than your damned assassins?"

"Er, no, not at the moment," Tienius says. "Although I will make note of your apparent eagerness to kill people."

"A very important note," Gellert says wryly.

"But no, the matter is some persistent rumors that I would like you to look into," Tienius says. "People have been saying that the death of the late King Llethan was not entirely coincidental. He did, of course, die completely naturally of old age. Since you are not known to be connected to—"

"Wait a minute," I say, throwing up my hands. "Listen, I don't give a _fuck_ if King Helseth murdered anyone, least of all the previous king, and I certainly don't give a fuck who may or may not be saying so. By all the gods and daedra, what the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you even think that I would be the perfect person to go look into some _rumors_ on your behalf? Seriously?"

Rispy and Gellert are snickering behind me.

Luna comes up beside me and says gently, "Stormseeker, murdering all the guards might be inconvenient."

I sigh. "Yeah. I know." I pin Tienius with a glare. "Just so you know, if anyone else tries to kill me, I'm sending their head back here. Well. If it's someone that might conceivably be connected to this place, at any rate. I won't bother if it's like, the Camonna Tong or something. Those heads can go to a different address."

"I take it you're not interested in proving your loyalty," Tienius says unnecessarily.

"Yeah, fuck off," I say.

"Might I remind you that you are being disrespectful to the Captain of the Royal Guard inside the throne room of the Royal Palace?"

"Fuck that, too," I say. "I'll be disrespectful to Vivec Himself floating in His Palace if I think he deserves it."

"Perhaps you should try that with our good Lady Almalexia and see how far that takes you," Tienius says thinly.

My heart skips a beat. "Is she here? In Mournhold?"

"Indeed she is," Tienius says. "Or did you fail to notice the Temple in addition to failing to notice who the king is?"

"I— I— I need to see her." I spin around and head for the door, wondering how in Oblivion I'm going to tell my ex-wife that I have a new boyfriend.


	3. Awkward Reunion

I should not be surprised that Almalexia's temple is large and grandiose. She was always a bit pretentious like that. It makes Vivec's palace seem like a hut, although to be fair, he has an entire temple canton, too. And arguably an entire city. Can a whole city be considered a temple?

A Dunmer man approaches us on the way into the temple. "Do you need something?" A quick Naming Charm indicates that his name is Fedris Hler.

"I need to see Almalexia," I say, barely pausing to look at him as I continue by.

"I'm sorry, serjo, but the High Chapel is closed but by invitation—" Fedris begins, but I ignore him.

"So bright…" Luna whispers, staring at the inner door into the heart of the temple.

"She'll see me," I say. I stride right up and try the door. It's locked. I shout three words at it. It holds firm. "God-damned cheating gods," I mutter under my breath.

"Who are you?" Fedris asks. "The Lady—"

" _I_ am Nerevar reborn," I say. "And I want to see the one who was once my wife."

"Oh," Fedris says. "You're _him_. Yes, I've heard of your claims."

"Yes, _him_ ," I say. "I am not in a very good mood today thanks to one arse of a presumptuous king first trying to kill me and then trying to use me. And then I find out _she's_ here, and… Luna?" I look aside to where Luna is staring and swaying a little.

"What is she looking at?" Fedris says.

"The Face-Snaked Queen of the Three in One," Luna says softly. "Love and venom, beautiful and terrible."

"Well… yes, I would assume that she's probably currently in that direction," Fedris says. "But you can't actually literally see through walls, can you?"

"I see her other face," Luna says. "The one she does not show to the world. Her soul is bright like the sun and it burns." She turns away. "I can't look anymore."

Rage drains out of me at seeing her eyes. "Luna, are you alright?"

Luna nods and gives me a small smile. "Be careful, Nerevar. She may not be what you remember."

"If divinity was enough to turn Vehk serious, what could it have done to Ayem?" I say quietly.

"Thousands of years of being forced to be responsible?" Gellert says. "Would you _really_ want a god who acted like, well, me? I'm not going to make the obvious, tired joke about Padfoot."

"Yes, thank you for that," I say. "We could happily go an entire century without a Sirius joke."

"Wouldn't that be something?" Gellert says.

Fedris looks at both of us like we're idiots.

I sigh and approach the door, and knock. "Ayem? Will you let me in, please? I need to talk to you." I pause for a moment, then murmur a few words in the old Chimer tongue. The door starts to open on its own.

"Oh, I guess she either actually believes you or is willing to hear you out," Fedris says. "Good luck to you, then."

I head through, and the door slams shut behind me without giving anyone else a chance to get through.

There she stands, beautiful golden face just as I remember her, with shining eyes like the sun. Tears sting my eyes at the sight of her. I loved her once. I _still_ love her. Every memory of Nerevar's life lies stark and clear in my mind as the day they were made.

"Ayem," I whisper.

"I did not think to see that face again," Almalexia says. "They always said when the Nerevarine came, he would bear another face. And yet I see upon you a face I have not seen in an age. Tell me how this came to be so."

"I was born a Breton," I explain. "I contracted the corprus disease. It warped and twisted my body, and I was in danger of losing my mind as well. But I had a plan and I would not give up until I had seen it to fruition. I built a device, one whose nature I had learned of in another realm far beyond this one. It's called a Geneforge. It can shape one's body, change it into a better, stronger form. I did not intend for it to transform people back into Chimer, nor did I mean for it to give me this face. But I am not surprised that it did."

"I see," Almalexia muses. "But do you remember anything? Are you truly Nerevar?"

"I remember everything, Ayem," I reply. "I remember the lavender perfume you used to wear. I remember that coy little smile you'd get whenever you thought of something clever and you didn't think anyone had realized it. I remember how you were always quick to lend a hand where needed, but during the quiet times, you treasured your books the most. You loved the springtime and you liked to weave gold kanet flowers into crowns to wear in your hair."

"You really are him, aren't you," Almalexia says quietly.

"In the flesh," I say.

She just continues to stare at me with an enigmatic expression on her face. I don't imagine she knows how to feel about this. _I_ don't know how I feel about this. I knew, intellectually, that she was still alive and must be around somewhere, but it hadn't really hit me that she was really here and I could have visited her anytime. It's not like I couldn't have simply asked someone, like Vivec for one, where she was. He would have told me. Her being here in this grand temple in a major city could not have exactly been any great secret or anything.

"I see time has treated you well," I say awkwardly.

"Quite," Almalexia says. "And you came to my city to visit me, and recount times past?"

"Well, no," I say. "I could lie and make it sound more romantic, but lying really isn't my thing. I came to your city because a certain king sent the Dark Brotherhood to try to kill me. It was annoying, so I had to root out that particular problem."

"Helseth," Almalexia spits. "I am not fond of him, but this time he has overstepped his bounds. He clearly does not truly realize what he is dealing with here. He is young and foolish, and the young oft make mistakes. But show him mercy, Nerevar. He will learn. He will come to understand the importance of the Tribunal and the strength of my love."

I shrug. "As you say. Honestly, I wasn't actually planning on killing him, not unless he seriously pissed me off even further. I didn't really think him worth the time or effort. He's just a petty-king sitting on a throne that holds no true importance."

"Then do you seek to reclaim your station?" Almalexia says. "A bold general, a Hortator to unite the people once again? Fulfill the prophecies?"

"It seems that is a thing I am doing, apparently," I say.

"You don't sound very certain of that," Almalexia says. "That's exactly the sort of tone you always got when Azura was demanding something of you. And now she's put those prophecies upon you again. Be at ease, Nerevar. Your burdens will soon be at an end."

"Yeah," I agree. "I hope so. She helped me where no one else could, but kept demanding a higher and higher price for her help. But I don't need her anymore, and this time she asked nothing of me but that I come back to Nirn. She doesn't really have any leverage over me anymore."

"Do you remember your old sword?" Almalexia asks. "Our wedding gifts?"

"Of course," I say. "Trueflame. Since I arrived back on Nirn, I've mainly used bound weapons. They're harder to lose." I chuckle. "Although funny enough, I've taken to using a dual-blade fighting style these days."

"My own sword has been kept safe in the meantime," Almalexia says. "But Trueflame was lost in the battle of Red Mountain."

"No it wasn't," I say. "I still had it with me when I died. Or did you lose it afterward?"

Almalexia gives a long pause to examine me thoughtfully. "You remember dying."

"Yes," I say.

"You are not upset about it?" Almalexia asks.

"Of course not," I say. "It needed to be done. Have you ever known me to be afraid of death?"

"I see," Almalexia says with a small grin.

"And no, I'm not upset about you losing my sword, either." I chuckle. "You don't need to use the passive voice."

"I may be able to point you in the general direction of the blade, given time to use my divine powers to search for them," Almalexia says. "In the meantime, perhaps you would be willing to aid me with a certain task?"

"Certainly," I say. "Anything. What do you need?"

"There is an artifact I seek," Almalexia says. "A magic ring called Barilzar's Mazed Band." She grins coyly. "You always were good at finding things."

I laugh softly. "This is true."

"I believe it to be in an abandoned crypt in the sewers beneath the temple," Almalexia says. "I had the area cleared away in an attempt at locating it, but I believed what was inside would prove too dangerous for my common followers. I was hoping to hire on a competent adventuring party to retrieve it."

"My team is definitely competent," I say. "It shall be done, my dear."

"Excellent," Almalexia says. "It was good to see you again, Nerevar."

She stands there looking at me expectantly, and I feel like I've just been dismissed. I give her a light farewell and head back out into the foyer. I could have talked with her for hours, reminiscing and sharing tales of what we've both been up to in the intervening millennia. I guess she has to have time to digest what my presence might mean. Has she gotten herself a new lover in the meantime? Is that why she's acting so awkwardly with me? Not that I can blame her, of course. I'd have to wonder at her if she _had_ gone for thousands of years without having another lover. She never really struck me as being asexual. Especially considering, if Vivec's ramblings are to be believed, she liked to screw around with Sotha Sil and his clones or something? I'm not too clear on that.

"Well, Nerevar, you look suitably awed." Gellert's voice shakes me out of my musings. "Or baffled? I can never tell them apart."

"Er, both, maybe," I say.

"She seems to have wanted to see you _alone_ really, really badly, too." Gellert waggles his eyebrows.

I roll my eyes. "Honestly, it's probably just as well. I just know certain jokers around here would have been completely unable to keep a straight face and avoid butting in with something ridiculous."

"Keeping a straight face would require me to have a straight face in the first place," Gellert says. "I'm afraid I only have a gay face."

"Luna, are you okay?" I ask, going up to where she's sitting down looking away from the inner chapel.

Luna nods. "I've been telling Fedris about the things I see."

"Under the circumstances," Fedris says, "it seems my lady believes you are, indeed, the Nerevarine. Far be it from me to dissent her judgment."

"How did it go?" Luna asks.

"I guess as well as can be expected," I say.

"What, exactly, do you expect of meeting your ex-wife after thousands of years who last saw you dead?" Gellert wonders.

"I didn't think you realized she was married to me once," I say.

Gellert snorts softly. "You mentioned it, remember?"

"No, I don't remember, but I'll take your word on it," I say. "At any rate, she gave us a quest!"

"Oh, really now?" Gellert says.

"She wants us to go down into the sewers and get her a magic ring," I say.

"Yes, this is what it means to be a goddess, isn't it?" Gellert says lightly. "Being able to send adventurers into the sewers to fetch you things. It would simply not do for her to go in herself."

"Sounds like fun," Luna says brightly.

"What does this ring even do, anyway?" Gellert wonders.

"I don't know," I say.

Gellert raises an eyebrow. "She didn't tell you?"

"I didn't ask."

"Were you too busy staring at her gazoogas to ask?" Gellert smirks.

"I was not staring at her 'gazoogas'," I say, rolling my eyes.

* * *

One fight with an obnoxious lich later sees us walking out of the sewers with our prize in hand. Give or take a couple of stupid deaths that were entirely the fault of my own carelessness. Sometimes I think my friends have a better success rate at completing tasks when I _don't_ go along. For all that I like to think that I'm the greatest warrior in the multiverse, I have to wonder if I was ever really cut out to be a warrior at all. Maybe I'm just a storyteller stumbling along a tale that should have never been mine to begin with.

"I love sewers," Luna says, skipping along the tunnels. "Especially these sewers. They're like a city beneath the city."

"They _are_ a city beneath the city," Rispy says.

"Have we figured out what this thing does yet?" Gellert wonders, holding aloft the ring we'd retrieved from the lich.

"Nope." I take it back from him and pocket it. "I'll ask Ayem."

"Do you normally call these 'Living Gods' by the first letters of their names in that alphabet you keep trying to make me learn?"

"Yes," I say.

"Why don't they call you, er, what's the one for N?"

"Neht," I say.

"Right, that was obvious," Gellert says. "Goes along with Seht, like you've been calling Sotha Sil."

"And I don't know," I say, pausing thoughtfully. "They _used_ to call me that, sometimes."

"And Vehk is just short for Vivec?" Gellert asks.

"No," I say. "He was never called Vivec in my past life. That's a new one. Well. Relatively new, seeing as he's had it for thousands of years, but you know what I mean."

"What was his original name, then?" Gellert asks.

"I don't know," I say. "He never told me. He only ever went by Vehk."

"And you didn't know the naming spell at the time, either," Gellert says. "What does that spell call him now?"

"Vivec," I say.

"Are you sure that wasn't his original name to begin with?" Gellert asks.

I shrug. "I don't think it was."

"Vivec is Vehk and Vehk," Luna says. "He is two Vehks."

"Well, that makes just about as much sense as half the things you say," Gellert says.

Luna smiles at him. "He has a straight face and a gay face."

Gellert groans.

"Let's just get this thing back to Almalexia," I say with a smirk.

This time, she actually lets my friends into the high chapel with me. I just hope Gellert can manage to avoid being _too_ snarky to her face. That's probably a futile hope.

"You've returned," Almalexia says. "This is your team, I take it?"

"Part of it," I say. "I've got another 'squad' that I call in for backup on the really serious jobs. They weren't necessary for this one."

"Quite the… eclectic group," Almalexia says, eyeing them. "But effective, I take it. You were able to retrieve the ring, then?"

"Right here," I say. I hand it over to her, pointedly using the hand I have my own ring, Moon-and-Star, on.

"What did you need it for, anyway?" Gellert asks.

"Do not concern yourself with it," Almalexia says.

"Okay, I wasn't too concerned about it before, but _now_ I'm concerned about it, thanks," Gellert says with a smirk.

Almalexia ignores him. "Nerevar, with my divine powers, I have determined that the broken pieces of Trueflame are actually nearby. You will need to get them reforged. Here is the one piece of it that I have." She hands me a shard of metal wrapped in cloth. I shove it into my bag. "As for the others, ask around. I cannot pinpoint their locations, but they may have fallen into the hands of collectors or warriors, who might not understand what it is that they have."

"I'll see what I can do," I say.

"Reforge your blade and reclaim your rightful place at the head of our people!" Almalexia says, grinning.

We head back out again to try to see what information we can scrounge up, Gellert glancing back over his shoulder several times as we exit the temple.

"I don't like the grin she was giving us back there," Gellert says.

"Gellert, I wouldn't think that you, of all people, would be _jealous_ ," I say.

Gellert rolls his eyes. "I'm not _jealous_."

"She's poison," Luna says softly.

"Why are you guys being so negative of her?" I wonder.

"Maybe you should _listen_ ," Rispy says. "When was Luna ever wrong about something?"

"That time she thought Sirius was a musician named Stubby Boardman?" I venture.

"Okay, besides that," Rispy says.

"I don't know exactly what it is, but there is something very wrong here," Luna says. "There's something wrong with her aura."

"Alright, alright, I'll be careful," I say. "I wasn't exactly planning on hopping back in bed with her again or anything. Let's just go find that sword. I know 'finding things' pretty well."


	4. End of Times

I wind up talking to absolutely everyone in town looking for the pieces of that stupid sword. Not for the first time, I have to wonder why I decided to look for the thing to begin with. It's not like I've used regular swords in a while. It's just the principle of it, though. It was _my_ sword, after all. But do I really need something around to remind me of a marriage to a woman I'm not sure I really know anymore?

"We really could have saved a lot of walking around had we gone to the museum _first_ ," Gellert comments.

"That seemed entirely too obvious," I say.

"Sometimes the obvious solutions really _are_ the answer," Rispy says.

"Well, he seemed pretty happy to get some of the junk we didn't really need," Gellert says. "How, exactly, did we manage to get our hands on so many legendary pieces of shit, anyway?"

"Padfoot stole most of them," Luna says lightly.

"I should have known Sirius was behind it," Gellert says with a smirk. "Do you think anyone will notice?"

"Nobody even goes _in_ that room," Rispy says.

I hear the clanking of machinery and the sounds of fighting from up ahead. "Wait, do you hear that?" I break into a run.

Rispy has his daedric bow in hand before we round the corner onto the plaza, and Gellert casts his bound battleaxe and armor while on the move.

Some sort of droids are attacking the city. They remind me of Dwemer automatons, but they're something different. Most of these are shaped like animals of various sorts. Insectoid robots shoot lightning at us as we approach, and I deflect it with a shield. Lightning is _my_ thing, damn it. Just to be sure they _aren't_ some sort of weird Dwemer devices, I turn on a harmonic resonator I've been carrying with me for exploring Dwemer ruins. As expected, they don't react to it. Normal Dwemer machines would have gone passive when exposed to these harmonics.

"Okay, what in Oblivion is going on here?" I wonder, diving in to defend the civilians.

The guards are holding their own well enough, at least. The droids don't appear to be too strong. We're able to disable them without me dying repeatedly.

"Where did those things come from?" I ask a guard.

"A hole opened up in the center of the plaza," the guard replies, pointing. "They must have come up from Dwemer ruins beneath the city."

I shake my head. "Those weren't Dwemer machines. I _know_ Dwemer machines."

"I don't know what else they could be, then," the guard says. "You should report this to Captain Delitian."

I groan softly. I'd rather not have another encounter with him. I might not be able to restrain myself from taking off his head this time. I thank the guard for his efforts and the suggestion and promptly go off to report to the temple instead.

"You look like you've been in a fight," Fedris says as we come into the lobby. Is the entry room to a temple called a lobby? Whatever. "I heard report of an attack on the city."

"News travels fast," I say.

"Yes, people who are not skilled in fighting tend to run away from attacks rather than toward them," Fedris says.

"I knew we could get some sarcasm out of you yet," Gellert says.

"That was not sarcasm," Fedris says.

"The city was attacked by some sort of machines," I say. "Not Dwemer ones. Some sort I haven't seen before. The immediate situation was dealt with, but no guarantee that more might not come."

Fedris frowns deeply. "You had best discuss this with our Lady."

"Yes, I fully intend to do so," I say.

I head into the high chapel.

"Greetings, Nerevar," Almalexia says. "It is good to see you again. I just wish it weren't under such dire circumstances."

"I take it you already know about the metal creatures attacking the city, then," I say.

"Of course," Almalexia says. "I have been using my divine powers to aid the wounded and shield the innocent."

"Must be nice to be a god," I say.

"Indeed," Almalexia says. "I can help people with this power far better than I ever could before."

The Ayem I remember was not all about love and mercy. Sure, she helped people, but she could be brutal, even terrifying at times. If anything, she was actually the scariest of us. I bite my tongue on commenting on that aloud, however.

"That's great," Gellert says. "But do you know what these things are? We could just climb down there and beat the shit out of whatever or whoever is responsible."

"There have been some disturbing developments," Almalexia says. "I have recently learned of a cult that has taken root in the city."

"You think they're responsible for this somehow?" I ask.

"I want you to investigate them," Almalexia says. "There have been deaths that I believe trace back to them. People have been poisoned. They call themselves the End of Times, and I've learned that their apparent leader is a young Dunmer called Eno Remari. Locate him and question him, but do not kill him. That would only make him a martyr."

"Understood," I say. "Do you have any leads on where to begin?"

"Speak with Meralyn Othan," Almalexia says. "Her brother was one of the victims. You can most likely find her in or around the Great Bazaar."

"Okay," I say. "I'll look into it."

We head back out of the temple and onto the streets again.

"There's something she's not telling us," Luna whispers.

"You don't say," Gellert says dryly. "Nerevar, I don't know if you noticed or were too busy staring at her gazoogas—"

"I was _not_ staring at her gazoogas."

"—but she didn't answer your question on whether she thought these people were connected to the attack on the plaza."

"I'm sure she did or she wouldn't have asked us to investigate them," I say. "At any rate, first things first, I'm going to find a blacksmith that can reforge this damned sword for me. Maybe it'll even be better at putting holes in things than my usual bound weapons."

"Great, something else to lose," Gellert says.

I snap, "Look, if you're just going to be so damned negative about everything, why don't you go sit in the palace and get drunk?"

Gellert throws up his hands and takes a step back. Luna puts her hand on my forearm. The rage bleeds out of me with a sigh.

"Sorry," I mutter. "You didn't deserve that." I take a deep breath. "Let's… let's just find a blacksmith."

We head for the Craftman's Hall and locate an orc smith working at the forge. We wait for a few minutes for him to get done with what he's doing at the moment before approaching him.

"You need something?" says the orc, Yagak gro-Gluk. "If you're looking for a weapon, I'm your orc. If you're looking for directions to the nearest tavern, find someone else to bother."

"How good are you?" I ask. "Have you ever worked with Dwemer materials before?"

"Best in Mournhold," Yagak says. "And I know my way around Dwemer metal, too, if that's what you're looking for, but I don't have any on hand right now. If you bring me some, I'll see what I can do with it."

I pull out the three pieces of the Dwemer blade, Trueflame, and lay them in front of him.

Yagak picks up a piece and examines it closely. "You've got some good metal here. I can work with this. Maybe make you the best blade you've ever seen."

"How much?" I ask.

After briefly negotiating over a price, I pass over a sack of coin, after which we're promptly shooed out of the smithy and told to come back in a few days' time.

"Think he can do the job?" Gellert asks.

"He's no Dwemer, but I'm sure it'll be fine," I say.

"Yeah, I'm sure it will be _fine_ , but we've got to expect _awesome_ here out of a sword that has a name and everything."

"If I name my bow, will that make it awesome?" Rispy asks.

"Yep!" Gellert says. "Everything automatically becomes one-hundred-percent more awesome if you just give it a name."

"Well, in that case, I hereby dub my bow 'Screw-You-All'," Rispy says.

"Maybe say it in another language," Gellert says. "That way people don't know it's just a stupid insult."

Rispy smirks and twitches his whiskers. "Zajik-Jer-Tsin'ra."

"Hmm, it doesn't really roll off the tongue," Gellert muses, rubbing his chin.

"How about Krissith-iso-Skra'il?" Rispy asks. "That means 'Piss-on-Everything'."

"Maybe something shorter?" Gellert says. "What do you think, Nerevar?"

I snort softly. "Don't ask _me_. I have a ring named One-Clan-Under-Moon-and-Star."

"Point," Gellert says. "Wait, does 'zajik' mean 'fuck' in Khajiit?"

"Yes," I say. "And the language is called Ta'agra. Let's stop screwing around and go investigate this cult already."

* * *

After casting the Naming Charm on absolutely everyone in the Bazaar, I manage to locate the person Almalexia said to speak to about the cult. She's a Dunmer clad in common garb, and her face looks as though she has been crying. Not the eyes, that is. It's impossible to tell if Dunmer eyes are actually bloodshot since they're faintly glowing red all the time.

"Do you need something?" Meralyn asks. "I would prefer to be left alone to grieve unless it's truly important."

"It is," I say. "We need to ask you some questions about your brother's death."

"You don't _look_ like guards," Meralyn says.

"We're not," I say. "We're adventurers, here on orders from Almalexia herself."

"Well, I guess if Our Lady sent you, who am I to refuse?" Meralyn says reluctantly. "What do you want to know?"

"What do you know about this 'End of Times' cult?" I ask.

Meralyn shakes her head. "They're lunatics. Sevel died because he fell in with them and listened to that Eno Romari's lies."

"Your brother was a member of this cult?" I ask. "Why would they kill one of their own members?"

"No, you don't understand," Meralyn says. "They're a suicide cult. They preach that the gods have lost their power and the apocalypse is near. It's blasphemy!"

I blink. "Well. That puts a different light on things. So it wasn't actually murder?"

"It was murder as surely as they'd done it themselves, even if they had to convince him to do it by his own hand."

"Do you know where I can find these cultists?" I ask. "How I might be able to contact their leader?"

"You'll often find them loitering around the Winged Guar Inn, preaching their nonsense at drunks," Meralyn says. "I wish you the blessings of the Three if you can bring these dangerous heretics to justice."

"Thank you," I say.

"Suicide cult," Gellert murmurs as we're walking toward the inn in question. "Why in Oblivion would a _suicide cult_ have anything to do with the attacks on the city?"

"Trying to kill everyone else as well as themselves?" I venture.

Gellert frowns. "Maybe."

Outside the inn, I spot a Dunmer man wearing a striking white robe, and identify him as Eno Romari. Given his loud ranting to anyone in earshot and complete lack of subtlety, I have to wonder why bothering poor Meralyn was even necessary.

"Greetings and blessings upon you, travelers," Eno says, inclining his head toward us as we approach. "I am Eno Romari. Is there some way in which I may guide you on your journeys through this life?"

"You're more polite than I was expecting, given the descriptions that led me to you," I say. "Is there any chance we might be able to speak in private? No, I'm not going to try to assassinate you."

"I do not actually have a permanent residence, but I'm sure something might be arranged," Eno says.

"Yes, why don't we just step into this back alley here and proceed not to assassinate you?" Gellert says.

"I am not concerned about dying at your hands," Eno says. "But if it would ease your souls to speak with me away from the public eye, then so be it."

"Let's manage to make ourselves look as suspicious as we possibly can," Gellert says.

I roll my eyes. "Nobody's going to be suspicious of us when they don't find a body back here and Eno goes back to harassing people in a few minutes. Come on."

We find a spot away from immediate traffic, and Gellert casually conjures a chair to lounge back in.

"Where in Oblivion did you find a Bound Chair spell?" I wonder.

"What did you wish to speak with me about?" Eno asks. "About my beliefs, I presume?"

"I've heard rumor of a cult," I say. "The 'End of Times'. Do I have the correct Eno?"

"Yes, that would be me," Eno says. "We are a peaceful group, working to relieve the suffering of the people in these troubled times."

"Does dying constitute relief of suffering?" I ask.

"Ah, you misunderstand," Eno says. "Yes, some of our members have undergone the Cleansing ritual. I presume that is why you came to me? You knew one of these people and hope to find out why?"

"Indirectly, but yes," I say. "We're willing to hear you out."

Gellert's Bound Chair spell wears off and it unravels beneath him, sending his ass plummeting into the pavement. "Damn it," he mumbles. "Okay, I am going to have to research a version of that spell that lasts longer than two minutes."

I smirk at Gellert, then glance aside to Luna. "What do you think of this fellow, Luna?"

Luna smiles. "His aura is calm and his eyes are bright."

"'Kay then," I say.

"A seer?" Eno wonders.

"Maybe you should start from the beginning," I say.

"Very well," Eno says. "We believe that the end of an era is upon us, and we're preparing for hardship to come. The Tribunal is losing its power, only one of the sights of what is to come. Soon, the gates of Oblivion will open, and daedra will storm out and burn all in their path."

I sway on my feet and have to steady myself against a wall. "Fuck. You _are_ for real."

"You believe me, then?" Eno says, glancing between me and Luna.

I don't answer him at first, then hold up my hands to weave an illusion. I pull up images, that first attack on Balmora, other attacks I saw all over Tamriel, cities in ruins, mass graves, stormy skies and red horizon. "We saw it for ourselves," I say quietly.

"Those are quite the vivid visions you had there," Eno says, watching my illusions. "I am sorry that you had to see them."

I close my hands and let the images fade into smoke. "So many innocent people are bound to die and I don't know how to stop it."

"Those of us who have performed the Cleansing have made a great sacrifice in order to aid us in the future and spread word to our ancestors," Eno says. "They may well be the only real protection we have against this scourge."

In that other timeline, the beta timeline, the quiet, peaceful timeline, this cult would have never existed. They would not have seen the Tribunal losing their power. They would not have imagined what was to come. They would not have even had the mettle to sacrifice themselves for the slightest hope at victory.

"Thank you," I say softly. "Everything we can get will help, but I don't know that it will be enough."

"It will be a time of great horror," Eno says. "The coming age will bring us no peace."

"You risk much," Luna says. "The Mother of Malice is not pleased with you."

"She's not the— okay, you know what, I'm just not going to argue about that," I say with a sigh.

It has become abundantly obvious that her only beef with this cult is their 'heresy' and not out of any real suspicion of their involvement in the current crisis.

"She will not show mercy," Luna says. "And she will offer no healing."

"Eno," I say. "I wish you well in your efforts, and I may come to speak with you later, once we've dealt with the current situation. Right now, I have someone I _really_ need to talk to."

* * *

We return to the high chapel, somewhat tenser and more uneasy than before. If Almalexia notices our subtle change in stance, she doesn't say anything about it.

"You've returned," Almalexia says. "Were you able to find out anything about the cult?"

"I don't think they're actually connected to the attacks on the city," I say. "They seemed pretty harmless, really."

"Harmless?" Almalexia scoffs. "I do not believe a heretical cult could be entirely harmless. What of these deaths I heard word of? The people murdered by poison in their own homes?"

"They weren't murdered," I say. "They committed suicide."

"A suicide cult?" Almalexia says. "In my city?"

"I don't know, if they want to prematurely join their ancestors, that's kind of their own business."

"It is heretical," Almalexia says.

"How, exactly, is that heresy?" Gellert asks. "It's not like they're going around fondling naked statues of you or something."

Almalexia graciously ignores him. "Are the people doubting my power?"

"Er," I say.

"They must realize I still love them!" Almalexia says. "You! Nerevar! There is a Dwemer device beneath the city that can alter the weather. I want you to go down and turn it on and cause ash storms to sweep through the city in order to give people proof of my power!"

"What the fuck, Ayem?" I say.

"The people must know not to mock a god!"

I put my face in my palm. "This is fucking stupid. Why in the name of the motherfucking _Heart of Lorkhan_ would I ever agree to do such a thing?"

"You would dare spurn me as well?" Almalexia glares at me.

"Fuck's sake, Ayem, calm down and listen to yourself," I say. "What in Oblivion has happened to you over these past ages that you would get so defensive so readily?"

"Mother of Mercy," Luna puts in. "Forgive your people. This will not help anyone. If you truly love your people, then bring no harm upon them."

Almalexia sighs. "You are an innocent child. You do not realize how love must be harsh sometimes."

"I'm just saying, there _really_ has to be a better way to 'demonstrate your power'," I say. "Particularly one that won't make people hate you?"

"They will not hate me," Almalexia says. "They will fear me and know that some of them have angered me."

"Is being a vengeful god truly the image you seek to project?" Luna says.

"People have started to doubt my power," Almalexia says.

"Damn it, Ayem, you're better than this," I say with a sigh. "I _know_ that Dagoth Ur's siphoning power off of the Heart of Lorkhan is weakening you. But it _doesn't matter_. Even a Telvanni wizard could claim to be a god if they actually cared to do so, which they don't. But even if you were at full strength, it would not be enough to stop the coming crisis. Still, though, maybe if we all work together, we can yet avert disaster."

I would much rather have Almalexia on my side here than doing… whatever mad thing it is she's gotten into her head. What is even _wrong_ with her? And here I'd thought Voryn Dagoth was the only one who had been driven mad by contact with that thing. At least all Vivec did was write weird books. And have sex with a Daedric Prince and give birth to monsters, apparently. I wasn't quite clear on that part.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Almalexia says. "You mean the Blight? The ash storms out from Red Mountain? The corprus disease?"

"No," I say. "And I kind of already cured corprus, but never mind that. That will not be the only problem this world will face."

"Then in order to face these trials you say are coming, the people must be fully behind us. Do not underestimate the power of belief."

I sigh. "I don't. I just don't think this is the right way to go about this. There has to be a better way to prove your power and sustain people's belief in you."

"Do you doubt me as well?" Almalexia asks.

"No, of course not," I say, although I'm not sure that I really feel it. "But if you want a sign in the heavens that the people should believe in you, you don't need a Dwemer machine for that."

"My own power is hard at work tending to my people," Almalexia says.

"Yes, but…" Without even lifting a hand, an aura of lightning crackles around me for a moment. "You're not the only one who can smite the unrighteous." I laugh softly.

"Your grasp of magic is stronger than I remember," Almalexia says.

"It has been like a million years from my perspective," I say. "I've traveled in many, many other worlds and learned their secrets." I don't feel the need to mention that I've _forgotten_ most of those secrets.

Almalexia gives a small smile. "Then call me up a storm yourself, that people might bear in mind my love and my wrath."


	5. Stormy Skies

I go and climb to the highest point in the city and look out over the landscape. I imagine what that Dwemer weather machine might have done, and how much damage it could have caused. How many people would have been hurt or killed had I let her go through on that plan?

"Why did you even agree to this?" Gellert wonders.

"Because she was determined and this way I can at least control the damage and make sure no one gets hurt," I say.

"You don't for a minute actually _believe_ that she needs to be believed in, do you?" Gellert asks.

"Belief has power," I say. "You know that. Maybe if people believe she's a goddess, she can protect the city better."

"Listen to you," Gellert says. "She's got you so fed up with her shit that you even believe it yourself?"

I sigh. "Not now, Gellert."

"Whatever," Gellert says. "So how are you going to do this? Going to go all 'blow up the Ministry of Magic' again here? Because I don't think that would be an improvement over whatever it was she had in mind."

"I totally didn't mean to blow up the Ministry of Magic that one time," I say. "I can control it better than that."

I deploy a portable Oblivion gate and head into our headquarters. Time to prepare some materials. I find Tom in the enchanting workshop, poring over some notes.

"Looking to enchant something?" Tom asks. "I've just perfected a spell that will make that much easier. Although, it will require the use of this lovely artifact to work properly." He holds aloft a vaguely familiar-looking object shaped like an eight-pointed star.

"Where did you get that?" I ask.

Tom shrugs. "Azura gave it to us after we performed a minor favor for her."

"You've been talking to Azura?" I ask.

"Not really," Tom says. "She has a statue out in the middle of nowhere and she spoke to us through it. Kirlin discovered it in the beta timeline and we came out here again when we came back."

"Did she say anything interesting?" I ask.

"Not really, no," Tom says. "Actually, come to think back on it? She did not seem to react to us at all. It did not occur to me at the time."

"She didn't recognize you?" I ask.

Tom shakes his head. "If she did, she gave no indication of it, in either timeline, so far as I know. She spoke to us as though we were any other random group of adventurers looking to perform some stupid task in order to get a shiny trinket."

"What's the trinket do?" I ask.

"This is Azura's Star," Tom says. "It's a basically a very powerful soul gem. It's empty right now."

"And what's this spell you were telling me about?"

"Something I've been researching for the sake of convenience, and have just finished perfecting," Tom says. "It took quite a bit of fine tuning to get the effects to trigger in the correct order. Allow me to demonstrate. I call it _Summon Grand Soul_."

Tom weaves magicka, and the air warps in front of him. A golden saint appears before him, a type of humanoid daedra, all shining and angry and vanishing with a bloodcurdling scream before it even has a chance to realize it's been summoned. Azura's Star is now glowing.

"What… did you just do?" I wonder.

"I summoned the Golden Saint and then soul trapped it," Tom says. "Now ready to be used for enchanting. Isn't it brilliant?"

I stare at him. "Well. At least this is a better use of your time than researching a Bound Chair spell."

"Say…" Gellert muses. "If I enchant my Bound Chair spell onto an article of clothing or something, like trousers, then it would be able to stay permanently! Or until I take off my trousers."

I put my face in my palm. "Let's just get back to the point at hand… I'm going to cause a very flashy but harmless storm over Mournhold. I'd like to anchor this to a few enchanted objects to sustain and control it without draining my own magicka."

"Why, exactly, didn't you want to at least go take a look at the Dwemer weather device Almalexia mentioned?" Gellert asks. "I would have thought that you'd be falling all over yourself to check out something like that."

"I think he was just too upset to think about it like that," Luna says with a grin.

"I'll… check it out later," I say.

Tom looks at me oddly. "You must have been feeling very strange to defer the opportunity to study a storm-related Dwemer device."

I grunt. "I just didn't want to do the stupid thing she told me to do and didn't want to lie to her and tell her I was going to do it just go to down there and mess around with it and not do what she wanted. Creating uncontrolled ash storms like she wanted would have caused unnecessary damage to the city and people."

Tom rolls his eyes. "And what's your plan now?"

"Creating a _controlled_ storm," I say. "I was going to create several anchor points and place them at the edges of the city in order to keep the spell stable."

"As you say," Tom says. "Tell you what. I'll get these anchors you want powered up and ready for you as a test of my new spell, while you go and examine that Dwemer device."

"I guess we can do that," I say.

* * *

Beneath Mournhold lies an extensive Dwemer ruin called Bamz-Amschend. It's hard to believe that Mournhold is really _three_ distinct cities built on top of one another.

"So, Dwemer expert, what does the unpronounceable name of _this_ ruin mean?" Gellert asks.

"Vault of Questions," I say.

"What sort of questions were they asking here?" Gellert wonders.

"Eh, probably the usual Dwemer stuff," I say. "You know. The misapplication of tonal contradiction. The singing void of ignorance. The harmonics of nonexistence."

"Dwemer were weird," Gellert says.

"You don't know the half of it," I say. "I remember places like this, full of people, going about their lives. Dwemer philosophy might be vaguely remembered for being opaque, Dwemer machines might be clearly remembered for being incredible and mysterious, but people forget that their cities were full of citizens just like them. They had plenty of cooks as well as engineers."

"Did they eat bugs, too?" Gellert asks.

I sigh. "Yes, they ate bugs."

Gellert pauses thoughtfully. "What sort of booze did they make?"

"I wasn't really deeply involved with Dwemer brewing," I say. "But, like every other sentient civilization in the multiverse, they fermented or distilled absolutely everything edible and some things that weren't. Including those bugs."

"Kwama eggnog?" Gellert asks.

"You are welcome to try to introduce kwama eggnog if you like," I say.

Using the harmonic resonator I'd developed for use in Dwemer ruins, we slip past the automatons without any reaction from them. It was really obvious that the droids attacking Mournhold were not Dwemer in origin when they didn't react to Dwemer harmonics.

After extensively exploring the ruins, we come to the device Almalexia mentioned. It's dormant at the moment, and missing a coherer, but I can still study it and the machinery around it to see how it works. It's merely a control mechanism, after all. Something as wide-reaching as weather control tends to take up much larger equipment. The entire room is a massive dome meant to focus those energies. I set up a gate to headquarters just outside the room, and get to work.

Gellert and Luna wander off to let me work, leaving only Rispy to stand watch and make sure the Dark Brotherhood don't sneak up on me somehow. That seems a little pointless seeing as they'd get slaughtered by the Dwemer automatons if they tried, even if any of them _did_ survive and were stupid enough to bother me after all that, but I'll not argue about it.

"Rispy, why are you just standing there watching me?" I wonder.

"Do I need to be doing something else?" Rispy asks.

"Aren't you getting bored?" I ask.

Rispy chuckles. "Right, that's you. You've always got to be doing something. For an immortal Time Mage, you've never been the patient sort. Me, I'm happy to just take a moment to relax and do nothing."

"Would that be different if I _remembered_ all those other lives?" I wonder.

Rispy shrugs. "Probably not. You're you. Driven, anxious, and curious. You can't just sit still for five minutes. I've seen you get bored and wander off even when you were supposed to be staking out someplace."

"I'll apologize for any point in which I was being a dumbass that I no longer remember," I say.

I lose track of time while studying the device and wind up very nearly having to get dragged off to eat something. I really ought to find some way to avoid having to eat the same way I've managed to avoid having to sleep, but seeing as food is used by the body to generate magicka, that seems less simple. Where do liches get their magicka from, though? Maybe I've gotten this all wrong in the first place. For that matter, what's the deal with soul gems? I'm getting distracted again.

"I have your anchors set up and imbued with the souls of several doubtless-unhappy golden saints," Tom says. "They're ready for you to proceed at your leisure."

"Great," I say. "Thanks. Er, they won't cause me any trouble, will they?"

"Unlikely," Tom says. "The soul of the kagouti who was used to enchant your boots hasn't done anything, has it?"

"There's the soul of an annoying predatory reptile in my boots?" I wonder, looking down. "Can't say I feel sorry for it. Those things are bastards."

"We can always make us some new equipment now that we have Azura's Star and don't need to find or purchase large numbers of rare soul gems."

"I'm just going to get this storm started," I say with a smirk. "I'll leave the enchanting to you."

"I've placed the anchors at the eight compass points around the city," Tom says. "They are under invisibility and levitation enchantments, so you'll need to levitate up if you need to access them directly."

"How will I find them if they're invisible?" I wonder.

Tom smirks. "It's a selective invisibility enchantment. Anyone with our magical signature will be able to detect them."

"Oh," I say. "That's convenient."

"Sirius came up with it," Tom says. "Something about how James Potter's invisibility cloak was obnoxious when even his friends couldn't see him."

I head out and levitate up to get to work. I spend time carefully attuning each anchor, actually floating orbs. Runes etched on the surface, magicka woven into them, everything set up perfectly and all tied together. This is all a proof that I can do something like this and still be capable of fully controlling it than anything else, particularly than anything Almalexia wanted me to do. _I'm_ the master of storms here, and this is _my_ project.

Then, when everything is ready to go, I set myself down on top of the temple, where Gellert is waiting for me as backup. It's beautiful. Everything hums in tune with one another. _This_ weather device will far surpass anything that Dwemer one below the city was capable of doing. I picked out the best parts I saw of it and made them my own and improved upon them. I raise my hands to the sky and pull on the strands of magicka connecting the anchors. The moment of truth.

"Storm…" I say aloud.

Clouds begin to storm in the clear skies. Sure, I could do this all at once, and that's what I would be doing on a smaller scale in a combat situation, but it's not necessary here. Take it slow and steady and maintain control. The skies darken as the clouds build up, blotting out the sun. I'd been working all night and specifically started this now in order to have more of an impact than it would if it boiled up in the middle of the night.

"Wrath!" I cackle madly at the feeling of energy flowing through me.

Let them see the wrath of the gods in the raging winds blowing up above the city. Banners in the marketplace whip around in the rising gale. A lost hat gets caught up and flutters past me.

" _Lightning!_ " I shout.

Thunder booms across Mournhold in a resounding crack, and blue lightning streaks through the air. It threatens to flare wildly out of control, but I maintain focus and concentration. _I_ am in control here. I'm not just letting this thing run rampant. Left to itself, it might kill half the people in the city who aren't within sufficient shelter, with the sort of power level behind it. It is very, _very_ hard to control. I have to keep total focus for several minutes, and deliberately send down lightning strikes toward locations where I don't think anyone will be seriously hurt in order to release the built-up energy in the clouds.

Just as I think my concentration is about to start slipping, I step down the power level of the storm gradually, letting the most dangerous gusts and lightning dissipate and leaving the city with a lower level of black clouds and wind. I let out a ragged breath and sink down to the roof. I hadn't realized that I'd levitated back up into the air again.

"Nice show," Gellert says. "What does 'strun' mean?"

"What?" I ask. "Was I speaking in another language again?"

"Yep," Gellert says. "You said 'Strun-Bah-Qo'. I wasn't expecting that you'd break out the Thu'um on top of the other preparations you made."

"I don't know," I say. "Me yelling words in other languages without realizing it seems pretty much par for the course for me."

"Well, either way, dear Ayem better appreciate this," Gellert says. "Shall we go pay her a visit and see what she thinks?"

"No," I say. "Right now, I just want to take a breather. Maybe get a drink. She can wait." I set off into the air again and float toward where I'd left my gate.

"Ooh, keeping the gods waiting," Gellert says, hovering after me. "You're really living dangerously today."

I roll my eyes as I head inside. "I'm not afraid of offending any gods."

"Hmm, I don't know, some of them are pretty scary," Gellert says. "She's _definitely_ high up on the list of 'scary'. Meanwhile, Sanguine, our humble landlord, is not particularly scary."

"How is he not scary?" I ask. "He could seriously fuck us over if he really wanted to."

"Yeah, but he's more inclined to _literally_ fuck us over," Gellert says.

Tom intercepts me on the way in. "Did it work?"

I nod. "Everything went swimmingly. And I'm drained as fuck even with the anchors and support from our soul web. At least I'm pretty such I haven't inadvertently destroyed half the city like I did with London, though. It probably took more energy to _control_ it than to simply spin it up and let it loose."

"Well, nothing horrible happened," Gellert says. "And I didn't have to knock him out of it or cut the magicka flow, so I'd say it's a win all around."

* * *

"I dislike levitation magic," Almalexia says. "I do not normally allow it in my city, but I permitted you to use it in order to accomplish your divinely-ordained task."

"Well, thanks," I say. "I hope this is sufficient. My anchor stones will maintain the weather as long as necessary."

"Excellent," Almalexia says. "You have done well for your god."

Something about the way she keeps saying things like that is really starting to grate on me. Surely she remembers having been my wife.

"And I've reassembled the pieces of Trueflame," I add. "The orc I hired to reforge it is probably done with it by now."

A quick check of the positions of the sun and moons indicates that I apparently spent several days on studying the Dwemer device and setting up my own weather manipulation enchantments. I hadn't really meant to spend so much time on it, but I had to get it right.

"That is also good news," Almalexia says. "Once Trueflame is ready, I have one more task for you that sadly must be done. Return to me once the blade is ready and we will discuss it further."

Once again, I feel as though I have been summarily dismissed from her presence. I have so many questions I yet want to ask her and things I wish to speak with her about, but she will not hear me out and for the most part, only gives the briefest, most impatient replies to my queries. This is quickly becoming frustrating. Where is the Ayem I remember? Where is the woman I once loved? Surely she's still in there. She's just been distracted and concerned about matters plaguing the city. Once the current crisis is over with, I must speak with her more in-depth.

The orc smith is indeed finished reforging Trueflame by the time I get over there, although he doesn't know why the sword isn't burning like it says in the name. I have to wonder if he really expected that just forging it would make it magically burn with magic. Either way, he advises me to go talk to a Dwemer mystic about it. I'm sure I can just get the thing enchanted myself if that was really what the Dwemer did to it, but they tended to have more exotic means of doing things like that. I decide to head back down to the ruins to look into it.

I run across a ghost during my explorations. I watch him warily for a moment, prepared to attack, but he doesn't seem to be hostile. A naming spell gives his name as Radac Stungnthumz.

"Eh, what are you doing down here?" the ghost asks in language more modern than I would have expected.

"Greetings to you," I say in ancient Dwemeris.

"You speak my language?" Radac replies likewise. "Or did you just pick up a few conversational phrases?"

"I speak it," I say. "I don't really get much opportunity to speak it, though."

"Hey," Gellert puts in. "Can you guys speak Cyrodiilic here and not old elf language, for the benefit of this dumb Nord?"

"Of course," Radac says, chuckling.

"Where did you learn Cyrodiilic?" I ask.

Radac shrugs. "People come down here sometimes. I spoke the Chimer tongue, of course, and watched it change bit by bit, but more and more of these Imperial sorts started coming around these ruins. Say, you look like a Chimer yourself. I thought they'd all been cursed."

"Long story," I say. "The curse is on its way out thanks to a new device called a Geneforge."

"Clever," Radac says. "It's nice to know that the ingenuity didn't entirely die out with my own people."

"I don't know that your people exactly 'died out'," I say, although I have to wonder how even a Dwemer _ghost_ could have survived what they did to themselves. I still don't completely understand just what it was they did to themselves, aside from the fact that messing around with the Heart of Lorkhan can be incredibly unpredictable at times. What fervent wish was in Tonal Architect Kagrenac's head when he struck the heart of a dead god with an enchanted hammer and blade?

"Well, that's a discussion for historians and philosophers," Radac says. "I'm a soldier. Only thing that matters to me is that they're all gone and I'm still here, haunting this place as always. So what are you looking for down here, anyway? Maybe I can point you to it."

I pull out my sword and show it to him. "I got this sword. It used to be on fire, but it got broken and had to be reforged and now it is no longer on fire. I was wondering if the Dwemer used anything special to enchant it with."

"Oh, you just want to add fire to it?" Radac says. "Don't need enchanting stuff for that. There's a sort of oil we used to put on blades for that. I think you can find some of it down in Norenen-Dur."

"Norenen-Dur?" I repeat.

"Yeah, there's an old Daedric ruin underneath this place," Radac says. "The caves go deep, deep down. I'd tell you to be careful down there, but if you have any inkling of how to handle a sword like that, you probably already know that."

"Wait," Gellert puts in. "You mean to tell me that Mournhold was built on top of a previous version of Mournhold, on top of a Dwemer city, on top of a Daedric city?"

"Yep, pretty much," Radac says.

"Is there anything under the Daedric city?" Gellert asks.

"If there is, I don't know about it," Radac says.

"I'll go see if I can find any of this fire oil," I say. "And probably skewer a few daedra along the way. I don't think my harmonic resonator is likely to keep _those_ from attacking me."

We head down to the ruins to look around, after getting hopelessly lost for a while trying to find the correct tunnel to get us down there in the first place. As it turns out, when we do find the tunnel the ghost had pointed us toward, the path is blocked and we wind up having to explode our way past.

Unsurprisingly, the place is crawling with daedra, which we proceed to start handily dispatching.

"You know, I was just thinking," I say. "It's so nice not to die constantly anymore."

I don't even see what kills me.

* * *

I wake up at the entrance to the daedric ruins where I'd last cast my Magic Nap spell, and put my face in my palm. "Why did I have to say something like that?"

"You really are an idiot sometimes, aren't you," Rispy says with a smirk.

"Did you doubt me?" I ask.

"No comment," Rispy says.

"Let's just go find this pyroil and get out of here without getting repeatedly killed by daedra like incompetent fools," I say.

We proceed to spend entirely too much time exploring the ruin-under-a-ruin-under-a-ruin-under-the-city, and I'm a little less complacent and reckless this time. I guess I'd been having such a good time of it lately, relatively speaking, that I forget that things can and will kill me. Damn, I think it was really just a magic-high from the storm I brewed over Mournhold. Delusions of godhood, without even the godhood to back it up. I get enough delusions from the actual gods. Although I suppose if I really _did_ want to be an honest-to-god god, I could just muck around with the Heart of Lorkhan like my old 'friends' did aaaaand that just sounds like a spectacularly bad idea.

Finally we locate the barrels of pyroil that Radac mentioned, retrieve some and take it back to him. He instructs me in how to apply it. For all the time I spent around the Dwemer and their machines, I never actually dealt with setting up their weapons like this. I just _used_ weapons. And… I don't think that I really want to be a 'warrior' anymore. There's something heartsick about it that has been slowly growing in me, or just something I've been realizing little by little.

"There you go," Radac says. "That'll give you that nice fiery effect you wanted. Fine blade, that, by the way." He notices me holding it aloft and looking at it wistfully. "Something wrong with it?"

I shake my head and lower the blade. "No, not the weapon. Just with me. I just kind of don't want to have to use it."

Radac grunts. "Then you're sane and normal, kid. Don't trust a soldier who actually _wants_ to use their weapons, but the ones who hope they don't have to."

I snort softly. "I don't know that I'd call myself sane and normal by any stretch of the terms. But maybe I'm not as bloodthirsty as I always thought I was."

"Take what you can get," Radac says. "Just don't hesitate to use it when and if you _do_ actually need to use it, no matter who it is you're going up against."

I glance aside to my friends, and don't even consider it. While I've fought with my companions before, I don't think there's a real danger of that anymore. We have our disagreements on how to proceed at times, sure. But after spending many years and multiple worlds together, I can't put a world's considerations above those of my friends.

I still can't shake this feeling of dread that I'm going to have to use this sword against someone I care about. The last words Almalexia said to me were no comfort. Something about needing to do something sad but necessary?

I take my time getting out of these ruins and back to the temple.


	6. Blades Crossed

"Ah, Trueflame, how it burns brightly once more!" Almalexia says, lifting her hands and giving a coy little smile.

"Now, what was it that you had in mind for it?" I ask.

"There is a sad business ahead of us, and I do so hate that it has come to this," Almalexia says. "The problem is Sotha Sil. I've discovered that the clockwork creations that have been attacking the city are his doing."

"Why would he want to attack Mournhold?" I wonder.

"He is completely mad," Almalexia says. "He spent time among mortals, once, teaching and studying in turn. But in time he withdrew more and more into his own creations, working tirelessly to create perfection and reshape the world. He lost himself in his work and lost touch with the outside world. He became dangerously unstable, and I suspect that he sought counsel from the foul Daedric Princes, possibly even Sheogorath the Madgod!"

"Why would someone obsessed with order seek counsel with Sheogorath?" Luna speaks up.

"I do not know why he does anything," Almalexia says. "Nor do I know if he can be reasoned with."

"I can certainly try," I say. "Maybe he'll listen to an old friend."

"If it comes to it, you may have to kill him," Almalexia says. "Trueflame can kill even a god, and while we are by no means powerless, we do not have the strength we once did."

"Dagoth Ur has been stealing it, yes," I say. "I will deal with him soon enough. But Seht? Really?" I sigh. "If that is what must be done, then so be it."

"It is the best thing for Mournhold, and at this point, the best thing for Morrowind as a whole," Almalexia says. "He stood by my side, time and time again, as he had with you. I grieve at the thought of what must be done."

"Where is he?" I ask.

"He has rarely been seen outside of his Clockwork City in recent years," Almalexia says. "I can use my powers to send you there when you are ready."

"I'll need to bring my companions," I say. "I don't want to take any chances with this and will need the backup."

"Of course," Almalexia says. "Gather them and return here."

I head into our headquarters and call the entire group back to explain the situation to them. I even manage to do it in a decent summary without detailing the exploits of wandering around a bunch of ruins, too.

"So, we're going to kill a god?" Sirius asks. "Man, all this godslaying was really not what I signed up for, but hey."

"Well, if we can get him to knock off the droid attacks, maybe we won't have to kill him," I say.

"If anyone can talk a god into doing something, it's you," Gellert says.

I roll my eyes. "I am not exactly infallible at persuasion."

"We could always just try it until it works," Kirlin says. "Time Magic has to be good for something."

"I have a feeling that we'll wind up doing that without trying to," I say.

"Yeah, we're bound to get killed repeatedly doing this," Sirius says.

"It should generally be expected anytime we do _anything_ dangerous," I comment. "And quite a lot of not-particularly-dangerous things."

"Maybe, for one, we can try actually _not dying_ for a change?" Sirius wonders.

"Wouldn't that be something?" Gellert says.

We pack up all the equipment and potions we think we're going to need, and return to the temple of Mournhold. Almalexia works her magic, and the temple vanishes from around me, to be replaced by a brass fortress filled with steam pipes and turning gears.

"Nice place," I say, admiring our surroundings.

"Yes," Tom agrees. "However, I see no sign of our target."

"More of those robot animals coming this way," Rispy says, pointing. "And I don't think they want to be scratched behind the ears."

We fight our way through the Clockwork City, past fabricant animals and droids of various shapes. I would dearly like a chance to study this place in depth, once everything isn't trying to kill me at least. After we deal with Sotha Sil, one way or another, I plan to do just that. Unless, of course, he has rigged the entire thing to blow up in the event that he's killed or something. That would be inconvenient.

And then we come to the end of a line. We open a door and see him. Sotha Sil. My old friend and companion, Dunmer-red eyes staring out blankly at nothing, broken body hanging dead from his own contraptions.

"Seht?" I breathe. "What happened here?"

"Nerevar," Almalexia's voice speaks.

I turn and see her standing there, wearing a terrible battle mask across her face, like some sort of Daedric monstrosity. I had hoped to never see her wearing that thing again.

"Ayem," I say. "What's going on? You came to fight him yourself?"

"It ends here, Nerevar," Almalexia says. "You were to have been a martyr, cruelly slain in battle with treacherous Sotha Sil in order to protect our beloved Morrowind!"

I blink. "Yeah, and if you'd actually let me fight him, that's probably what would have happened. What in Oblivion are you on about, Ayem?"

"The time has come for me to take my place as the one true god of Morrowind!" Almalexia cries. "I will tell everyone how you proclaimed your love to me with your dying breath and declared this truth for all to know! The Warrior-Poet will fall as well, and the foolish king will kneel before me!"

"Welp, hate to tell you this, Nerevar," Gellert says. "But I think your ex-wife has gone nuts."

"You don't say," I drawl, then sigh. "Not that it matters at this point, Ayem… but it was a mistake to turn against me, and doubly a mistake to bring me here with my friends."

"Mortals," Almalexia scoffs. "They are irrelevant. How can they hope to stand up to the strength of a god?"

Almalexia stumbles with a Daedric arrow sticking out of her shoulder, Rispy standing behind her with bow ready and another arrow coming to bear.

"I could see where this monologue was going and thought I'd head it off," Rispy says, firing again. "Not sorry."

The rest of my companions move quickly to take advantage of Almalexia being caught off-balance. Gellert swings his bound battleaxe at her, clipping her in the leg, but it doesn't even seem to hurt her. Fire and lightning rain down upon her from our mages, but they barely seem to faze her. She raises a hand, and sends Gellert flying across the room with a telekinetic blast, battleaxe vanishing as he loses his grip on it.

With a terrible crunching sound, the world goes out.

* * *

I find myself back where we'd first been teleported into the Clockwork City. I stagger, and look over to Gellert, but he's fine, of course.

"Ow," Gellert says. "Guess I pissed her off. Hey, at least it was someone other than you getting killed for once, right?"

I sink down to the floor, barely aware that the others have started fighting off the nearby fabricants again. "It's not funny, Gellert," I say quietly after a long pause.

"Didn't say it was," Gellert says. "Come on, you know me. I joke about everything. Even the things that aren't funny. _Especially_ the things that aren't funny. And trust me, this is about as damned not-funny as it gets."

"You knew something wasn't right, Stormseeker," Luna says softly.

I sigh. "Let's not even start in on the 'I-told-you-so's. I can't handle that right now."

"You okay, Lexen?" Rispy asks once the creatures immediately attacking us have stopped moving.

"No," I reply. "Fuck. I just. I can't believe she betrayed me. After everything. Why? Why would she do such a thing?"

"She's fucking crazy," Gellert says.

"I can _see_ that," I say. "Fuck. I just didn't realize she was _this_ fucking crazy! I thought she just had delusions of grandeur and wanted to rule over Morrowind as its one true god-queen, not murder her former husband!"

"It's nice to know where your priorities are," Tom puts in.

"Give me a moment," I say with a sigh. "Then we can… go back there and… fuck, I don't even know."

"Take your time," Tom says with only a hint of impatience in his tone.

I am not prepared. I don't want to see this battle. I don't want this battle to happen. Maybe I can still reason with her. Somehow. What words can I possibly say that will talk her down from her madness? How many times can I keep trying to convince her to see reason? I sigh as I climb to my feet. I am not prepared. But I have no better options right now.

When Almalexia sees us enter the second time, something about her demeanor is subtly different. Oh Akatosh, does she know? She can't know, can she? But Vivec seemed aware of things he should not have been able to be, and she has the same powers as he does.

"Nerevar," she says, haltingly going into her speech again, but it's not the same. "It ends here. I will take my place as the one true god, after you so heroically gave your life to stop Seht's madness."

"Ayem," I begin, words failing me. "Don't do this."

" _Kneel before your goddess!_ " Almalexia shrieks, a ring of fire bursting out from her in all directions.

* * *

I don't know whose death triggered the reset, or if we'd all been killed at once. It doesn't really matter. We wind up back at the point we'd teleported in.

"You might as well stick a Mark in front of the door so we don't have to keep killing every automaton between here and there," Tom comments.

"I don't know how we're going to win this one," I say.

"Then it's a good thing _I've_ got a Mark set right before we left our palace," Gellert says.

"Yes," Tom agreed. "If we cannot find a solution here, we jump back to Gellert's Mark, or to another, and we figure out a different angle or avoid the situation entirely."

That doesn't bear to think about at the moment. Right now, I want to give this another shot. I keep telling myself if I can think of the right thing to say to her, and not just get tied up in my tongue unable to speak to my damned ex-wife and come to terms with her apparent madness and betrayal… damn it all. We fight our way to the door again and I cast a Magic Nap to set my temporal Mark here and ensure that I'm alert and rested, not that it's likely to help all that much.

Almalexia is giving me a strange look when we come through this time. "Nerevar," she says. "What is this?"

"I should be asking you that, Ayem," I say. "Why did you do this? I would have done almost anything for you, once…"

"Why will you not stay dead?" Ayem demands. "I murdered you once. I can kill you again. Your life is mine!"

A shockwave knocks me off my feet in an instant before the world goes black.

* * *

We wake outside the door.

"Does she remember somehow?" Sirius asks.

Hermione says, "I believe she's aware of other timelines, even if not in the same way we are. I don't know that she entirely understands what she's seeing, though."

"Vivec always seemed to be aware, on some level," I say. "Why did I not anticipate that she might be, too? Or that Sotha Sil would be, seeing as we'd come here intending to fight _him_."

"Because we fought Vivec before," Hermione says. "And we _won_. It took us a lot of resets, but we did eventually win."

"Did we really win, or did he just give up?" I wonder, then shake my head. "That was different. We were… maybe not entirely ourselves at the time, and we had powers we don't have now. And I'm not going to suggest aligning with Dagoth Ur just to kill…" I take a deep breath.

"We _are_ going to have to kill her, you know," Tom says pointedly.

I don't answer.

"Lexen," Gellert says quietly.

"There are always choices," I murmur, moving for the door.

"Nerevar!" Almalexia shrieks as we come in, almost to the point where I'm surprised she waited impatiently for us to come through that door at all. Did she hear us talking outside? What is she even aware of?

"Ayem, _what_ are you doing?" I wonder.

With a wordless growl, Almalexia sends Gellert hurling against a wall.

"Gellert!" I cry out, looking over to him.

"Don't worry about me, you idiot," he mutters, not moving. "Kill her!"

I turn around slowly and see the mad goddess swatting Remus in werewolf form away from her. He hits a wall with a sound like a kicked puppy and falls to the ground. No one has died yet, at least, or we would have reset. But it's disconcerting. This isn't how I'd expected this to go. I came here to fight Sotha Sil, not— not _her_! I was already reluctant enough to fight my old friend Seht, but how can I raise a blade against my own wife?

"Do you love them, Nerevar?" Almalexia asks, hurling Luna away from her. "Do you love them like you should have loved me? Do you want to watch them die, Nerevar? _Do you want to watch them die?_ "

She's holding back. She's _deliberately_ not killing them yet. She could mop the floor with all of us, no problem. Maybe she's lost some of her powers, but she still has at least some of the divinity of the Heart of Lorkhan behind her.

"Ayem…" I whisper.

I'm not going to be able to talk her down from this, I realize. It's too late. She's too far gone. Like Voryn. Like Voryn Dagoth, Dagoth Ur, who went mad with power and delusions and tried to turn Vvardenfell into his garden of plenty without realizing that it was really a garden of ash and blight full of mutated, mindless monsters. That her delusions are different does not make them any less of delusions, and her people are suffering for it. Morrowind is suffering for it. I followed along with what she wanted, damn her. I realized it was pointless, foolish, and wrong, but I did it anyway. I was so proud of my beautiful storms.

"Tell me why you will not die," Almalexia demands.

"What do you see?" I ask.

"I see a man in the midst of a tangled web," Almalexia says. "Everyone's strand of life cuts out at their death. Yours just leads around again in little curves and circles and goes nowhere. _What are you_?"

"You were not born a god," I say quietly. "You stole your divinity from the Heart of Lorkhan. You took the divine powers from a _true_ god. And you cannot kill a true god. Even Lorkhan, punished by the Divines and his heart torn out and hurled across the world, did not truly die. The Dead God dreams. And his dreams bring madness. You will enjoy no peace and no freedom so long as you tie your fate to his. I am truly immortal, and _you are not_. You can still die like anyone else. I'm sorry, Ayem. I still love you."

I raise Trueflame, sparing half a glance toward my friends laying unconscious in a circle around me. She'd somehow realized she couldn't actually kill them without a reset. What did she even hope to gain here? With a sigh and a heavy heart, I force myself into battle mode and recognize her as the enemy she has made herself. She might not be able to kill _me_ , but how do I kill a god, even a false god, with powers that knocked out my friends in no time?

"Ayem," I say. "Neither of us can win this battle. You know that. I know that. Let's duel, then. No powers. Just our twin blades against one another. Whoever wins yields to whatever the other wishes."

"No," Almalexia says. "You were always the better warrior. I know I could not best you without powers."

"Then no divine powers," I say. "Mortal magic only. Make it a fair fight."

Flames burst around me, and splash against my shield spell. I don't know if that's really an answer or not, but it didn't instantly kill me or anything. Not having actual divine powers myself beyond not-staying-dead, I don't need to hold back. No matter how much I tell her she won't really die, it's hard to fight her, though.

I bring everything I have to bear against her. Lightning aura crackles around me, sending off strikes in her direction at irregular intervals. My blade flashes and weaves as I dance the deadly dance in a combat stance that's all aggression, called Juyo form, relying entirely on shields to take incoming attacks. She's not sending anything at me that can be blocked with a blade or easily dodged anyway.

Although I'd been using a two-weapon form lately, it was a new one to me that I had taken up and practiced only relatively recently. Combat with a single sword is much more familiar to me, and _this_ particular sword fits in my hand like an extension of my arm. Centuries of experience honed my battle forms, but if Almalexia is used to seeing Nerevar's moves alone, she will be disappointed. I am not only Nerevar. I was once a mighty Sith warlord with a lightsaber as well, and many of the techniques I used can be readily adapted to a magical blade like Trueflame.

I might not have divine powers from the heart of a dead god. But I have Time Magic, and I can move faster than any mortal. And I can sense every move she makes before she makes it. That doesn't happen often. The world echoes around me. I move, almost not even of my own volition, blade coming in to strike. First blood drawn, and my shields are holding. Probably because I'm drawing all my energy from my friends now, and they're not doing anything to drain it. I wish they could be joining in this fight. If this weren't probably a sort-of fair one-on-one duel, I might have tried waking them, but as it is, my entire focus is on fighting and being grateful that I'm _not_ instantly getting god-stomped into Oblivion.

With each drop of her blood that falls I feel my heart crack a little more.

In the end, Trueflame strikes true, and Almalexia falls to the ground without so much as a whimper and doesn't get back up again. I stare at her broken and bloody body for several long minutes, only distantly aware that Tom has woken up and is quietly reviving the others one by one.

"Ayem," I whisper, falling to my knees at her side.

To their credit, even the snarkier members of my party keep their mouths shut for once, and the room is quiet for several long moments that feel like an eternity, until I realize that my time manipulation magic was still kicking up a fuss and I have to deliberately shut it off.

"Is she really dead?" Sirius asks.

"I know Vivec had some tricks when we fought him," Hermione says, "but if she's employing them here, I can't tell."

"We barely remember fighting him, Hermione," Gellert says.

" _I_ remember," Hermione huffs.

Tom sighs. "It doesn't matter. I would dearly like a chance to study how the Heart of Lorkhan actually works sometime if it weren't too bloody dangerous."

" _You_ , afraid something is too dangerous?" Gellert wonders.

" _Yes_ , I am afraid it is too dangerous," Tom says. " _You_ might be so reckless sometimes that you would endanger our very existence with your nonsense, but _I_ am a sensible person that prefers to— ugh, never mind, why am I even arguing about this with you?"

I climb to my feet slowly and turn away. I can't look any longer. Another timeline, I promise myself. I promise _her_. I will save you in another timeline. I will make sure none of this ever happens.

But she was in the other timeline too. She was there and I never went to see her and never really thought about it. Because was I really being Nerevar in that timeline, anyway? What was I even _doing_ most of the time? It all feels like such a pointless waste but people were happy and free but they weren't safe, and was it really all worth it for the horrible end they all came to? Do people really need to be unhappy in order for them to be safe and free?

"Gellert," I say, noticing him groping the corpse. "Are you looking for loot on my dead wife's body?"

"Er," Gellert says. "Yes? Should I not loot your dead wife's body?"

I snort softly. "Of course not. It was my kill. _I_ get to loot my dead wife's body, damn it."

Gellert puts up his hands and steps away. "By all means."

Retrieving the twin blade to Trueflame, Hopesfire, makes me feel a bit of a twinge in my heart. Once, the two of us were united, hand-in-hand, side-by-side, like these two swords. But had it ever truly been that way? I loved her, certainly, but I was always closer to Vivec. A little perspective that isn't really all that comforting right now.

I also find Barilzar's Mazed Band. "Oh, this thing. She never did tell me what it was for."

"Let me see that," Tom asks, and I pass it over to him. "Remarkable. There are very powerful teleportation enchantments on this ring. I will need to study this further."

"Was that how she got in here?" Gellert wonders.

"Possibly," Tom says. "We won't need it to get out again, though." He pulls out a portable Oblivion gate and activates it. "I can spare leaving a gate in the Clockwork City for the moment." He waves us toward it. "Go on. I want to stay here for a moment and do some studies. I will join you in a bit."

* * *

"Hey, Lexen," Rispy says, taking a seat at the bar next to me. "You okay?"

"Yes," I say. "No."

"You're two pints into 'fuck the world'," Rispy says. "And you're drinking sujamma, too. You only ever drink sujamma when you want to fry your brain."

"What do you really expect?" I say. "I just killed my ex-wife."

Rispy's tail drops. "Yes, well… it kind of had to be done."

"Did it?" I wonder. "Did it really?"

"Why don't you ask yourself that?" Rispy asks.

"Because I don't have any answers," I say.

"I think you have more than you're letting yourself realize," Rispy says, whiskers twitching.

"There were a million different things that could have happened," I say. "A million different ways that could have gone."

"Yes," Rispy says. "And now you can explore this way, and perhaps try another way later."

I grunt. "It's not just that. It's… was there something about Ayem that I just never saw? Did she have that potential for crazy in here to begin with, or was it entirely the Heart of Lorkhan's doing?"

"Eh," Rispy says. "You want my honest opinion on that?"

"Yes, Rispy. Tell me exactly what you think of her."

"I think she's fucking nuts," Rispy says. "She was full of herself from the day you met her. Attaining godhood and receiving the adoration of millions didn't exactly do her any favors, though. Maybe if things had gone differently and she'd grown or been humbled before her apotheosis, but as it stands? She never had to. She was a pampered little princess. She was noble-born, and even after she met you, you protected her and kept her safe."

"Are you saying she might have been a better person if her life had been _worse_?" I wonder.

Rispy shrugs. "You know, all the time you've spent learning magic, making friends, worrying over the world and forgetting yourself over and over, I've been watching people and outcomes, and how each change affects each other change. You weren't patient enough to, even when you were in a state of remembering things regularly. Sometimes I'd go off on my own just to see what changes might come of my own actions without being disturbed by your own actions — let me tell you, you can be incredibly unpredictable sometimes."

"And here I've always been told the opposite," I say.

Rispy snorts softly. "Lies. If there's one constant in the universe, it's that I have no idea what you might do at any given point. I know your inclinations and all, and while I can never see you, say, supporting slavery, you might choose to go about stopping it by a dozen different methods, provided you don't just get distracted by something else and forget about it and ignore it. I've seen you do everything from killing all the slavers, buying out all the slaves, getting elected and passing legislation, killing all your political rivals and ordering it stopped, fomenting an uprising, teleporting all the slaves out of the country…"

I throw up my hands. "Alright, alright, I get it. I'm sure my actions all made sense to me at the time."

"There were times I saw you in the same situation and do completely different things," Rispy says. "I can only assume it might have been because you half-remembered something that might have given more context, but believe me, it drove me insane trying to make sense of your insanity sometimes."

"Yes, I think you've already mentioned that I'm insane."

"Point being, I've gotten pretty good at predicting general personality and behavior patterns," Rispy says. "People who have never actually had to work for anything often end up like dear Ayem did. People can _benefit_ from struggle. People tend to value things more when they have to work for them."

I sigh. "And when I created a happy, perfect timeline, all I did was make sure no one was challenged enough to stand up when things got bad."

"Maybe they weren't even as happy as you thought they were," Rispy says.

"Once upon a time, a crazy god-mage put me through ever-living _hell_ in order to forge me into the tool he needed to save the universe. I'd always wondered why he couldn't have just asked or told me what he was doing."

"It might not have worked if he had," Rispy says. "What he did barely worked to begin with."

"If I broke under the strain, he'd have just had to find another inborn Time Mage," I say. "And I think I kind of did."

Rispy nods. "But can you say you didn't wind up a better person for the hardship you endured? You fought and scraped for every skill you learned, every victory you achieved, no matter how fleeting. You somehow learned to care about people and then never stopped caring even where other Time Mages _do_. Do you have any idea how many people, when exposed to Time Magic, take leave of their senses and general morality? They start thinking there are no consequences to anything they do, and—"

"Ayem," I whisper. "She couldn't handle immortality. She couldn't handle godhood."

Rispy looks away. "Yes. Exactly. She could no longer see people as truly people any longer. As a mortal, she was just a noble-born bitch, and I'm not going to apologize for saying that, either. You did ask, after all. But as a god?" He clicks his tongue. "Some places called it 'chronopsychosis'. I don't know if that really applies to being a god, but I guess immortality counts."

"I had good reason to make them promise me not to mess with the Heart of Lorkhan," I say. "Beyond that just being a really terrible idea in general."

"And when each of them got that sort of power," Rispy says, "they clearly reacted predictably, in accordance with their pre-existing personalities. Seht withdrew to his research, can you really say you're surprised at that?"

I snicker. "Not in the least. I am _so_ going to take a more extensive look at his Clockwork City and figure out what it even _is_. But that's a discussion for another time and I've had too much sujamma and I'm not even entirely certain why I'm not slurring more."

"I've been casting spells to keep you sober behind your back," Gellert puts in.

"I hate you so much," I say with a smirk. "And how in the Void did Vehk manage to take divinity and wind up as… well, I can't really say _sane_ or _normal_ but you know what I mean."

"By not taking it seriously," Gellert says.

"Excuse me?" I wonder.

"No, I'm serious about that one." Gellert takes a seat on the stool on my opposite side. "Well. Insofar as I'm serious about anything. Almalexia and Sotha Sil had all these big plans and grand designs. Vivec fucked a monster and wrote bad poetry. I think."

"Something like that," I say.

"He never let it get to him," Gellert says. "He never let it actually change him. He just put on another mask for when he needed to be someone else. He just went into the whole thing with a completely different attitude and outlook than the others. Maybe he even did it in hopes of keeping the other two in check."

"Just how many board games did you play with him?" I wonder.

Gellert shrugs. "I don't know. I think I've got a good feel for him, though. Bastard can never bluff _me_."

"Did you lose again?" Rispy asks.

"He totally cheated," Gellert grumbles.


	7. Divinity

Vivec is silent as I tell him what happened with Almalexia and Sotha Sil. My voice breaks, and Gellert, sitting beside me, seems too lost in his own thoughts to interject anything I might want to smack him over.

"Yes," Vivec says quietly. "I can feel their absence. But do not weep for them, Nerevar. All mortals die."

I snort softly. "But they don't _have_ to. Mortality is not something that needs to be a thing!"

"Ah, Nerevar, idealistic to the last," Vivec says.

"If I didn't have idealism, what would I have?" I ask. "I just… kind of am slowly realizing that coddling people may not actually be what's best for them or for the world. I don't see why that means anyone needs to actually die, though. I—"

Mercifully, my latest round of babbling gets cut off by Tom, Kirlin, and Hermione emerging from the portable gate I'd set up inside Vivec's palace.

"Nerevar," Tom says. "I figured we'd find you here."

"I'm bad at telling people where I'm going, aren't I," I say.

Tom waves a hand dismissively. "We've been working, and we have a plan."

"A plan for what?" I ask.

"The people of Morrowind won't be quick to accept the loss of their gods," Kirlin says.

"No, most likely not," I say.

"Most probably won't even believe it at all," Kirlin says. "After all, they're gods. Gods can't die, right?"

"Normally not," Vivec says. "These were not exactly normal circumstances, and we do not have the power we once had. Once we lose the Heart of Lorkhan entirely, we will be mortal again."

"We'll figure out a suitable way to deal with that," I say. "Tom, what do you have in mind?"

"Using the principles behind the Geneforge," Tom says, "I've devised a concoction that effectively acts like a permanent Polyjuice potion. My preliminary tests have met with great success. And given a stronger source of essence than simply hair, it may even impart a portion of the subject's powers as well."

"Tom," I say. "What are you going to do with this?"

Tom pulls out a vial of glowing violet liquid and gives a wild grin across his reptilian face. "People won't accept the loss of their gods. So we are going to become them."

" _What?"_ I sputter. "You can't do that!"

"We absolutely can," Tom says.

"You don't know what sort of effect that might have!" I cry, but it's no use.

Tom tips the swirling potion into his mouth and downs it in one gulp. At first, it doesn't appear to be doing anything, but his skin starts to crawl and he falls to the ground in a fetal position, screaming.

"TOM!" I shriek, starting to rush over toward him.

Rispy grabs my arm and stops me. "Don't touch him!"

"Right… thanks for saving me from a stupid death," I murmur.

I know how dangerous the Geneforge can be, and with anyone else coming into contact with someone in the middle of a transformation on that level. This is no simple shapeshifting. That potion is rewriting everything about his being. How could he possibly complain about Gellert being reckless when he takes risks like _this_? Is the prospect of godhood worth the potential danger here, or does he believe that if things go horribly wrong, Time Magic will save him? I suppose he's not wrong on that assumption, but the Geneforge affects more than just one's physical body. It can give one magical abilities as well. Those augmentation canisters could give someone instant access to spells they hadn't learned. What could such a potion with the essence of a god do?

On the floor in the middle of Vivec's palace, Tom's body is changing while the rest of us look on in horror, fascination, or both. Rather than retracting into his body like I would have expected them to, his scales and tail actually _fall off_. Maybe doing something like this to an Argonian body wasn't such a great idea. His bones creak and twist around, reptilian legs breaking and bending and mending themselves. His long snout warps and melts, receding into his face before solidifying again.

When the magic finally settles down, Tom staggers to his feet and looks over to us with Dunmer-red eyes set in Dunmer-gray skin. He stretches out his hands to look at them, and casually conjures a mirror in front of him to examine himself with.

"Yes, it worked!" Tom exclaims. "I knew my calculations were correct, and I can _feel_ it!"

"Tom, what in the name of the everlasting Void did you do?" I ask. "That wasn't just a Polyjuice potion! What did you put _in_ it?"

"You left the bodies on the floor in front of the gate," Tom says. "I took them into my workshop and drained them of blood and essence."

"You've been playing with corpses again?" I groan.

"Are you entirely surprised?" Tom's voice sounds a bit more like it does when he's a human than when he was an Argonian.

"Well, no," I say.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Vivec asks, looking over Tom's new form appraisingly. "You realize that if you take up Sotha Sil's mantle like this, you will _be_ Sotha Sil?"

"I have had some speculation that I was in the first place," Tom says. "And that it may have been the connection to the Heart of Lorkhan that prevented me from properly merging with him when I awoke in this universe. I will need to conduct further tests."

I put my face in my palm. "And which one of you was planning to be Ayem?"

"That would be me," Kirlin says. "It has to be done, and it seems fitting, doesn't it?" She chuckles. "We were even married once, as I'm sure you recall."

"I still think this is a terrible idea, but far be it from me to stop you if that's your choice." I sigh.

"You saw what happened to _him_ ," Gellert says. "You eager to go through that yourself?"

"I'm sure it can't be that bad," Kirlin says, pulling out her own vial.

"Oh, no no no." Gellert waves his hands back and forth. "Don't say things like that. You've got to think it will be worse than it actually is."

Kirlin rolls her eyes. "Alright. Fine. It will be completely and utterly horrible and I will greatly regret having agreed to any of this or gone along with Tom's crazy ideas. Cheers!" She downs the potion.

The transformation doesn't hit her quite as badly, probably because she's already a Dunmer and not a two-legged giant lizard. Nothing drops off of her, but she does still fall to the ground in pain as her bones adjust. Almalexia was taller than her. Golden color suffuses gray skin, and the red light of her eyes shifts to clear yellow.

"You could just have gently lowered yourself to the ground before doing that," Gellert comments once it's over. "Just don't lose your sense of humor. Or maybe it was already too late for that."

"Kirlin, Hermione, let us return to my workshop," Tom says. "I have further tests I need to conduct to ensure the transformation went properly."

They disappear into the gate without another word, leaving me staring after them.

"This was quite possibly more distressing than Seht and Ayem being dead," I say finally.

"Vivec," Gellert says. "Vehk? Whatever you'd rather call yourself. Do me a favor?"

"Yes?" Vivec says.

"Don't die on me here," Gellert says. "I don't want to have to be you."

"That's quite alright," Vivec says. "I don't want to have to be me, either."

* * *

Upon returning to the Clockwork City, I quickly discover that there's much more of it than we saw before. It _is_ literally an entire city, and more. There are even grounds outside of it with metallic plants and fabricant animals running around amidst giant pipes. Giant gears turn across the skies, drawing my eye. What _is_ this place?

"Tom…" I say quietly.

"Seht. Call me Seht."

"I _could_ just speak in a language nobody else here speaks, or use privacy charms all the time like we always do."

"It helps me get in-character," Tom says. "It's bad enough that I had to make an excuse for the fact that I remember nobody here and nothing of what we were doing. It is likely that our Ayem is having a worse time of it, however. The former Ayem actually interacted with her people more, while the old Seht tended to be more reclusive and engrossed in his own projects. I am still working on figuring out what all he was up to."

"Are there a lot of people here?" I ask.

"A good number," Tom says. "Let me introduce you to them, otherwise they might get testy at you and not allow you access into everything, and I am quite certain that you will want to examine everything you can get your hands on."

"Absolutely," I say.

The people who live in the Clockwork City are mainly elves and humans of varying types, although I think I spot a Khajiit tail out of the corner of my eye. Many of them bear various sorts of cybernetic enhancements, thin clockwork limbs that I have to wonder whether they were to replace injuries or were actually cut off to 'improve' themselves with.

After greeting the citizens of the Clockwork City, Tom introduces me, "This is my old friend and companion, Nerevar, reborn. You will give him the same respect as you would give me and permit him access to anything he wishes to see."

"Of course, Lord Seht," they say.

As we head into the brass fortress, I ask, "So where exactly _is_ the Clockwork City? And what's the deal with the sky?"

"Let me show you," Tom says.

He leads me to a side room containing a clockwork orb with glowing light in the middle. If it weren't for my magic senses flaring out around it, I might have mistaken it for simply a fancy lamp. He reaches out and touches it with one hand, and seems to be sucked right through. Giving it a dubious look, I follow suit and touch the orb as well.

The orb pops me out into a dim cavern, next to what appears to be a snow globe with gears turning outside of a glass dome. Inside the globe stands an intricately-detailed brass city with familiar features.

"Is that… the Clockwork City?" I ask, peering into the globe and wondering if everyone inside can see my face. "Or just a representation of it?"

"Both, neither," Tom says. "I am still studying that myself."

"I want one," I say. "I want my own magic snow globe."

Tom sighs. "You already have a portable palace. And you can study this one as much as you like. Don't you even start pouting."

"No, seriously though," I say. "Did S— er, _you_ — have experiments with extension magic? Like bags of holding and such as well?"

"I don't know yet," Tom says. "But given evidence, it seems entirely likely. I will see if I can reproduce the magic behind those bags."

"Yes, that would be very convenient if you can figure out how he— you— how that was done. Would the Clockwork City be destroyed if this snow globe were? Or is it a separate pocket plane somewhere that could still be reached by other means such as the Mazed Band?"

"I aim to find that out," Tom says. "I am certain that there are notes on this matter and many others. Sotha Sil strikes me as the organized type who would meticulously document his studies."

"Will you be okay here?" I ask.

Tom nods. "Of course. I will contact you if I require your assistance."

"Good," I say. "I'm afraid you and Kirlin are getting in over your heads here. I'm going to head back to Mournhold for the moment and make sure she's settling in alright."

"Good idea," Tom says. "Almalexia is more of a face to her people, and it will be more easily noticed if something is wrong."

* * *

If Kirlin is nervous about the situation, she does not give the slightest hint of it. Had this really been a spur-of-the-moment decision, or were they planning this before? Did they really think through the implications of what they were doing before they went ahead with it? Knowing those two, I have to wonder if they'd ever considered actually messing around with the Heart of Lorkhan themselves. Tom always seemed just a little too defensive about it.

I don't know what my friends are up to half the time, but it's okay. I have faith in them.

"K— Ayem," I say when I come out into the Mournhold Temple.

"Ah, good, Nerevar, you are here," Kirlin says. That face. _That face_. It works up my head seeing her with that face, even more than it did seeing Sotha Sil's face on Tom. All the mixed emotions, from love to terror to joy to betrayal. Everything I'd felt about Almalexia, and everything I'd felt about Kirlin Surana, and everything I'd felt about Cassiopeia Black. The brilliant and terrifying woman who wouldn't hesitate to jump in and grab a situation by the reins. Her first life wasted on magical research but always having been wishing for more. Had this actually been her idea and not Tom's?

"How is the situation in Mournhold?" I finally manage.

"It is time to stop the storm," Kirlin says.

"Now that's something I can get behind," I say.

She heads outside, and I follow along after her, stopping a short ways outside the doors. In the sky, the storm still churns, winds whipping at the robes of passersby and the occasional rumble of thunder and flicker of lightning. When people see the two of us come out of the temple, they stop to look, apprehension in their red eyes.

Kirlin raises her hands to the sky. "People of Mournhold! A new day dawns upon Morrowind. Nerevar has returned to me in the flesh!"

Tentative applause. Tentative applause that becomes considerably less tentative when Gellert, Sirius, Remus, and Luna start whooping and cheering in the crowd.

"The time has come to bring calm to the skies and peace to the city," Kirlin says.

On cue, I connect my mana with the weather-control anchors levitating invisibly at the edges of the city. I wind up struggling with it more than I had anticipated. I make some mental notes on how to improve the setup here. As it is, while it is perfectly capable of maintaining weather of whatever sort, it is difficult to _change_ the weather. I suppose that's not much of a design flaw, really, but eight grand souls should be capable of pushing a lot of magicka around fast. Kirlin is giving a speech, and I'm sure it's quite rousing, but I'm tuning the world out and trying to focus on shifting a massive flow of magicka without making it obvious to the crowd that I'm doing anything.

A shaft of sunlight bursts out of the clouds and illuminates Kirlin. I hope I managed to do that at a suitably dramatic point in her speech, but to be honest I hadn't even heard what she'd said, so for all I know it just highlighted a declaration for pie on Sundas. Well, actually having pie on Sundas might be worth dramatic lighting and the oohs and aahs from the gathered crowd.

With the storm dissipated and clear blue skies vaulting over Mournhold, Kirlin gives me a device and instructions to disable the fabricants still lingering around Mournhold. Apparently Tom had given it to her for that purpose, since she couldn't figure out how Almalexia had gotten the fabricants to come out to attack Mournhold. Possibly Almalexia hadn't controlled them at all and simply lured them out and their programming kicked in, trying to protect against intruders but failing to realize they were no longer where they were supposed to be.

As I work on pacifying the fabricants, I think back to the weather stones and what might be done with them. It's probably not necessary to be able to control the weather in Mournhold at any given moment, but I've got a more useful purpose in mind for them. Once the situation in Mournhold is stable, I levitate up to deactivate and collect the anchor stones, and stash them away in my portable palace for the moment.

I return to the temple. Kirlin is nowhere in sight, but I assume she went back inside. Before I can get far, Fedris Hler practically ambushes me.

"Nerevar," Fedris says. "It is good to see my Lady happier than she has been in a long time."

"I can only imagine that she must have missed me," I say with a crooked grin.

"Undoubtedly," Fedris says, eying me.

Crap, does he know? Has he figured something out? Has he realized that something is amiss?

"It would seem that my Lady has been so preoccupied with you that temple roster changes, blessing rituals, and meeting times have entirely slipped her mind."

"What in Oblivion does a temple need with _meetings_?" I wonder.

Fedris looks as me like I'm stupid. Damn, what happened to the looks of awe everyone outside was giving me? "Tell me what is going on, _Nerevar_."

I hold up my hands and lower my voice, "Alright, but can we speak in private, please? You have an office, right? If you've got _meetings_ , you ought to at least have an office."

Fedris sighs. "Yes, I have an office. Come on, then, and this had better be good."

I shuffle into a small office after Fedris. Funny, I would have expected someone of his station — what _is_ his official temple status, anyway? — to have a bigger office. Maybe one with a window or something. Some lovely potted glowing mushrooms, maybe. But no, it's a cramped and plain office with hardly room to walk in. No wonder he seems to spend all his time standing around in the lobby.

"Now, Nerevar, if you really are Nerevar, I'm listening."

"We weren't going to say anything," I say. "It wouldn't do to worry people needlessly, after all."

"About?" Fedris prods impatiently.

"We visited Sotha Sil's Clockwork City," I say. "Seht had this new magical experiment he was _dying_ to tell us about." I give a feigned eye roll. "Those creatures that got out roaming the city? Those were his. Something had gone wrong and they got loose, but we got it taken care of."

"And this experiment?" Fedris presses.

"Seht was working on memory enhancement and augmentation," I say. "A problem that can come up, especially with someone who lives long enough, is in the organization and retrieval of their memories. There are various methods that can be used to improve one's recall of various details, even recite an entire book that you only glanced at once. One of these is a device called a Pensieve."

I make a mental note to tell Tom to 'invent' a Pensieve at some point in the near future. Those things are damned useful and he probably has the resources in the Clockwork City to figure one out, too.

"A Pensieve is a sort of basin in which one can place memories as though in swirling silver liquid, and multiple people at a time can enter the Pensieve to view those memories from a third person perspective. They can replay that memory over and over and observe details that might have been missed the first time."

"And something went wrong with this 'Pensieve', I take it?" Fedris asks.

I sigh. "My dear Ayem seems to be missing some memories. Her mind is sharp as ever, though, and Seht is working on a fix. I did not wish to let it be known that she isn't in top form at the moment, though. You and I both know that the gods are not completely infallible, but it won't do to show weakness to the common people, you know?"

"Yes, of course, I understand," Fedris says.

"I would much appreciate it if you could bear with her and gently remind her of anything she might have forgotten," I say. "She's trying to maintain her composure, but she is frustrated to no end by it."

"I will look after her," Fedris says. "In the meantime, would you please convey a message to the Wizard to be more careful next time?"

"Thank you," I say, inclining my head toward him. "It means a lot to me."

Well, that was one fire bolt dodged. I just hope that this doesn't become even more obvious in ways that don't involve forgetting temple scheduling. I hope Kirlin knows what she's doing here.


	8. Soaked

I take the weather stones and put them in place in the sky around Red Mountain, setting them hovering over the Ghostfence, invisible over the shimmering spirit barrier. Dagoth Ur would no doubt notice if I turn them on and stop the blight storms that originate from the volcano. But it would save a lot of lives. It would _greatly_ decrease the number of corprus victims. Now, if only I had a way to cure them en masse. We'd been luring them to Tel Fyr one at a time and getting them to use the Geneforge. But Tom reduced the Geneforge to a mere potion. Could the same not be done with the corprus cure?

"Potions really aren't your strong suit," Gellert comments when I share my thoughts with him. "Besides, how would you even get any of those corprus creatures to _drink_ it?"

"Well, the Geneforge doesn't require _drinking_ ," I say. "What if we made, like, a spray?"

"So, spray them in the face like a dog to get them to behave?" Gellert asks.

"Don't tell me you've been mean to dogs lately," I say.

"Pfft, no," Gellert says with a smirk. "Not exactly a lot of dogs in Vvardenfell. I haven't even been mean to guar!"

"And you're right, I'm no expert on potions," I say. "I'm going to let an expert on potions devise a solution. For now, I'm going to see if I can suppress the blight storms. I don't think Dagoth will be able to affect the anchors from where they are, otherwise he would have done something about the Ghostfence circling his whole damned mountain by now."

I link in with the weather stones. They're much further apart than they were in Mournhold and the combined effect of them is much weaker over this area. This is going to strain these anchors to the limit, and I need to be careful not to push them too hard, too fast. Over Red Mountain, darkened clouds churn in storms of crimson dust, bringing disease wherever they touch, driving animals mad and turning people into mutated monsters. That ends today, if I have anything to say about it.

"Sky…" I say aloud. I want to see the sky over Red Mountain again. I want to see clear blue air with the sun streaming down from the heavens.

Slowly, the winds begin to calm, the storms cease blowing quite so hard.

"Lorkhan's celestial butt cheeks!" Gellert says. "Are you trying to yell at the sky again?"

"What?" I say. "Damn it, don't break my concentration."

"Sorry," Gellert says. "Nothing was happening in a great hurry. You just said 'Lok'."

"That was 'sky'," I say.

"So, what are the other two words?" Gellert asks.

"Er. I hadn't really thought about it. Maybe something would have come to mind if you hadn't interrupted me."

Gellert throws up his hands. "What else am I here for?"

"Making sure something doesn't go wrong," I say. "Now, let's see…"

I want to see the ending of the storm. Perhaps new life can come upon the slopes of this mountain.

"Sky-Spring-Summer!" I shout.

Nothing happens in any great hurry, and after several minutes of nothing happen, I come to the conclusion that nothing is going to happen. I have the feeling that that might have worked were this a blizzard, or maybe even a normal storm, but it has no effect on these ash storms. I'm going to need something else.

"How do people normally learn these Shouts, anyway?" Gellert wonders.

"What, you're the Nord here, you tell me."

Gellert shrugs helplessly. "I guess it's different for you, since you're Dragonborn. And, well, normal dragons, too, for that matter. It comes instinctively, doesn't it? You already know the language."

"I certainly don't recall learning it, although that doesn't really mean much," I say. "And if I were going to be yelling at the sky _instinctively_ , you should have just left me alone to yell at it with whatever came to mind. Now I'm over-thinking it."

"Or maybe whatever came to mind wouldn't have worked anyway," Gellert says.

"Yeah, probably," I say. "Plus, I'm going up against divine power here. If I brought the weather stones closer, it would help to focus it more, but Dagoth Ur would also be able to attack them from closer in."

"You didn't seem to have any trouble clearing the storm in Mournhold," Gellert says.

"Yeah, because they'd _created_ that storm," I say. "That was more just a matter of turning it off than anything else. Alright, let me try some other stuff. _Sky-Peace-Rainbow!_ "

Once again, nothing happens.

"I've also never heard of Nord Tongues augmenting their Shouts with magicka like this, either," Gellert says.

"The anchor stones help to maintain the weather, not just to change it," I say. "They should be able to continue to suppress the blight storms on their own once I can get them to stop in the first place. I hope."

"Can eight golden saints hold against a dude with divine power?"

"I don't know," I say. "Even if they can't, if they can maintain it for any length of time, I can just keep coming out here regularly to yell at the sky again. Once I figure out what to yell, at least."

"Well, just keep yelling random words at the sky and I'm sure something might happen," Gellert says with a smirk.

"I don't think it works that way," I sigh. "I have to _feel_ and fully understand what I'm trying to do. Starting storms comes more naturally to me than stopping them."

"Failing all else, you can at least stop the blight storms from getting outside the Ghostfence for now, right?"

"That… yes, that I can definitely do," I say.

This is simple enough. An extension of the Ghostfence barriers, effectively. Did the Ghostfence cover the sky over Red Mountain when it was first created? When did the blight storms actually start?

"Alright, I think I've got this," I say.

Rather than actually stop the blight storms, this does nothing more than direct them back inward. I suppose on the up side, doing this is less likely to get Dagoth Ur to notice something is up, or if he does notice, to attribute it to the defenses of the Ghostfence that are already there. I let out a heavy breath as the spells settle into place.

"You know," I muse aloud. "It would be nice if people didn't _have_ to be hard. Maybe we can still find a way to save that peaceful world."

"We stop this next disaster, then what?" Gellert asks. "The next, and the next?"

"Of course," I say with a crooked grin. "As much as it takes."

"What would be the perfect world, to you?" Gellert wonders.

"One where no one ever needs to know death," I say. "And in order for people to still be _free_ , they would therefore need to all be immortal."

"Sounds like we've got our work cut out for us, then," Gellert says with a grin.

"We?" I ask.

"Of course," Gellert says. "I have not the foggiest idea how that might be accomplished, but I'm with you."

"Thanks," I say. "And neither do I."

"Hey, if it's a crazy nigh-impossible plan that will probably take a million years to figure out, we can at least have some fun along the way."

"Only _nigh_ -impossible?" I ask with a smirk.

"I have faith in you," Gellert says lightly.

"Let's deal with the problem in front of us for the moment, though," I say. "The Blight."

"Well, we do already have a cure for corprus," Gellert says.

"And no way to deliver it on a large scale," I say.

"Yet," Gellert says, pointing to the sky. "You're the expert on storms here. Can you make it rain corprus cure over Red Mountain?"

I snicker. "An interesting idea, albeit an imperfect one seeing as it wouldn't get anyone that was indoors _and_ it would leave everyone in the area vulnerable to anything hostile wandering around."

"I didn't say it was a _great_ idea," Gellert says.

"Getting a version of it that will work from simply spraying someone with it would be a good start," I say. "Normally I'd ask Tom but he's probably awfully busy at the moment, so why don't we bug Hermione instead?"

"You said before that it's Shaping, not Alchemy," Gellert says with a coy grin.

I sigh. "Fine, I'll try it and see what I can manage."

"Do, or do not—"

"—and damn it, Gellert, quit quoting Yoda."

"One of these days, I've got to actually meet that muppet," Gellert says.

We head back to my laboratory in the caverns beneath Tel Fyr, what was once the Corprusarium, through the permanent gateway Tom had built there. No more corprus patients are held here. They've all either gone home or stayed on to help work in the lab. We make our way into the back room where the Geneforge itself is set up, past all the equipment and experiments that have been set up.

"So, Lexen," Gellert says. "If everyone in your dream world is free and immortal, do you think they'd just get to a point where they do ridiculous things because they feel that there's no consequences for their actions?"

"Are you inferring that from your own behavior, or mine?" I ask wryly.

"Touche," Gellert says.

"I couldn't say what exactly the results might be," I say. "I couldn't have predicted that Dagoth Ur not being mad would have had the effect that it did, either."

Gellert grins wildly. "What's stopping you from testing it out?"

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"What I mean is, why don't you go repeat the thing you did to make that other timeline, and see if you can't create other ones?"

I scowl. "I'm not sure that I'm that eager to go fucking around with the Heart of Lorkhan like that."

"Aw, why not?" Gellert says. "Haven't we already proven that we can safely do so and still hop around back here or whenever else?"

"It makes me nervous," I say.

"How?"

"It's the heart of a dead god," I say. "It is literally the heart of the creator of the universe."

"You assume," Gellert says.

"I have no reason to believe that that assessment is inaccurate," I say. "And regardless of its origin, even under the best of circumstances, I get a terrible feeling from it. It's cursed. No good can come of it. Anything done with it will be fundamentally flawed in some way."

"Hmm," Gellert hmms. "Why not test it anyway?"

"I'll think about it," I say. "I won't discount the possibility but I'm not really ready to try that again just yet."

"As you say." Gellert chuckles. "We have all of eternity, after all. What if you found some sort of source of power that _wasn't_ inherently corrupt?"

"I'll keep an eye out," I say wryly. "People don't tend to just leave those sorts of things laying around for people to stumble across."

I examine the Geneforge. The shimmering violet pool continues to swirl between the four charged crystal pillars. The thing that really let this device _work_ was the use of the blood of a god in its genetic pool. Divine to counter the divine, perhaps. And then Tom and Kirlin drank down their own potions using the blood of gods. I can't readily duplicate divine blood, but maybe I don't have to. And… it looks like Tom left the corpses of Almalexia and Sotha Sil in stasis containers in a storage room behind the Geneforge. Lovely.

"At least I guess we have no shortage of divine blood here," I say dubiously, staring at the face of my dead wife for a few moments longer before closing the box. "I don't know if that would be sufficient to go spraying people with, though."

"What if we just went in and dumped it on Dagoth Ur himself?" Gellert suggests.

I stare at him. "That's so stupid it might actually work."

* * *

"I don't know where you got the design for this weapon, but did you have to make it bright orange and green?"

The devices Gellert had conjured were something he'd called a 'Super Soaker', and now full of blight-dispelling fluid. I have no idea if this ridiculous plan is going to work, but I see no reason not to try it.

"Also, you know I'm useless at ranged weapons like guns, don't you?"

"Pfft." Gellert waves me off. "I've got it set to a spray mode. Just point it in the general direction of whatever you're trying to soak. _Some_ of it should hit."

"One or another of us should be able to thoroughly drench him," Rispy puts in, hefting his own weapon.

"Will it be enough, though?" I wonder.

"Who knows?" Gellert says.

"It will be fun, either way," Luna says lightly.

"Alright then," I say. "Blue Team is _go_."

We teleport to the Mark Luna had left inside Ghostgate, since none of us were silly enough to want to get into the Red Mountain area and potentially attract Dagoth Ur's attention without due cause. I cast a Magic Nap and we start to head through, only to be stopped by a Dunmer woman with blank, staring eyes.

"I am a Sleeper, one of many—"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I mutter. "How did they find us?"

"We weren't really being that subtle," Rispy says.

"The Sixth House is risen, and Dagoth is its glory," the Sleeper rambles on, seeming not to have heard us. "You will join him in flesh or in death."

A splash of purple liquid squirts onto her face. I glance over to Rispy, his soaker pistol raised and pointed at her.

"What?" Rispy says innocently. "I could see where this was going."

"I don't know that that's even going to help…" I say, smirking. "I mean, she doesn't have corprus."

The Sleeper stares at us in a daze, and lets out an involuntary shudder. Flecks of potion had gotten into her eyes, which now gaze at us in unfaltering gold. Color fades into her cheeks, gray to bronze, and she slowly reaches up to wipe her face off only to wind up staring at her copper-colored hand.

"What… what did you do?" she asks.

"Huh," I say. "That was an unexpected result."

"Where am I?" the woman asks. "What am I even doing here?"

"Did that actually cut her off from Dagoth Ur?" Gellert wonders.

"But the blight cure doesn't actually _cure_ corprus, just mitigates its symptoms," I say. "I think."

"You _think_?" Gellert retorts.

"Maybe she just woke up from getting splashed in the face," Luna suggests.

"What even is this stuff?" the woman asks. "And my name is Daynasa. I'd be annoyed at the way you lot were talking about me as if I'm not even here, but seeing as I was apparently… sleepwalking or something and you woke me up, I suppose I shan't complain."

"A test," I say, gesturing to our splash-potion weapons. "It's supposed to be a means of curing corprus in those we can't get to Tel Fyr. Rispy got trigger-happy when you started harassing us, though."

"This one regrets nothing," Rispy says.

"Well, whatever you did seems to have changed my skin color?" Daynasa says in puzzlement.

"Yes, that could have interesting implications about the Dunmer," I say.

"Can I go home now?" Daynasa asks. "I don't even remember how I got here. Where am I? Is this Ghostgate?"

"Will you be alright to get home by yourself?" I ask.

"I'll be fine," Daynasa says.

Before we head through, I spot an old man watching us. Not that that's unusual or anything, considering half the people in the vicinity are either looking at us like we're insane or trying very hard _not_ to look at us. But what makes this man stand out is his calm demeanor. Like he's waiting for something. Luna looks over to him and smiles.

"Do you know him?" I ask quietly.

"No," Luna says. "But his aura is very interesting."

I scan over him with Seeking Magic and while I can tell there is definitely something unusual about it, I cannot identify or begin to explain what it is. The auras of those who had used the power of the Heart of Lorkhan were blindingly bright. This man, on the other hand, doesn't even seem like he's actually here. Like this body is just an image projected into the room. To cap it off, a Naming Charm returns a blank at first, but a more insistent spell brings out a rain of names and titles, too fast and too many for me to make out. I quickly stop the spell.

"What in Oblivion," I whisper. I go up to the bartender. "Hey."

"Can I get you something?" the Dunmer asks.

"I just want to know, do you know anything about the Imperial at the end of the bar?"

"What Imperial?" she says. "There's no Imperials in here."

"An old man, wearing Imperial Legion armor, receding gray hair?"

She shakes her head. "There aren't even any other humans in this room but your Nord friend here."

"I suspected as much," I say. "An illusion."

Nothing to be done but to check it out. My curiosity would drive me mad otherwise, and he had to have appeared before us and specifically us for a reason.

"Hello. They call me Wulf."

"I, uh, have a bunch of names," I say.

Wulf snickers. "So tell me one of them."

"Let's go with Nerevar," I say.

"Sure," Wulf says. "So, Nerevar, what brings you here?"

"My friends and I are going up to Red Mountain to try out some new experimental weapons on Dagoth Ur." I pat the bright orange gun in my hands, looking like nothing more than a child's toy if it weren't for the stabilizing crystals.

"Is that so?" Wulf says. "You know, I'm an old veteran, old as the Emperor himself, bless his soul. I came this far to see this place, to see what hell looks like, but I can't go any further."

I give him an odd look. Fine, I'll play along with this for the moment. "Too old for one more campaign? Don't think you'd make it back?"

Wulf chuckles. "No, it's time for somebody younger than me to shape history."

"You talk like you're already dead," I say, then wonder if that might not be true, that I'm speaking to a ghost.

"Not yet," Wulf says. "But my time will come."

"I could tell you a dozen ways to immortality off the top of my head," I say. "Most of which don't even involve fucking around with the hearts of gods."

"Immortality?" Wulf says in amusement. "Even gods can die. You're speaking of a dead god."

"Well, yes… but even then it's not a case of age alone."

"Ah, here we are yapping about philosophy when I had a favor to ask of you," Wulf says.

"What's that?" I ask.

"When you go up that mountain to fight Dagoth Ur, could you carry this old lucky coin with you?" Wulf holds up a coin, tarnished but still gleaming. "I've had it for a long time and it's always brought me luck. But I think you might need it more than me."

"Luck…" I say. "Throughout my existence, my luck has never been good. I've just been happy when it hasn't been _bad_."

"Maybe it's time for that to change," Wulf says with a grin.

"I'll accept your coin, 'old man'," I say.

"Very kind of you." He passes it over into my hand. It feels warm to the touch. "Thank you for humoring an old man. For the Empire and Emperor, as we say in the Legion. I don't know how much longer the Empire and Emperor might last, though. They're getting old. Maybe it's time for something new. Change is never easy, though. Go with Kynareth, Nerevar."

When I look up, the old man is gone.

"Well, that was odd," I say quietly. I scan the coin to see what sort of enchantment it might have on it, but while I can detect the same magicka signature Wulf exhibited, I can't identify any specific enchantments on it at all. It almost feels more like a bound weapon instead of a simple enchanted object.

"What was?" Gellert asks, coming up behind me with a mug of sujamma.

"You're drinking at a time like this?" I ask incredulously.

"Of course," Gellert says. "This is what people traditionally do before going up Red Mountain. Soothes the nerves."

"Are you nervous?" I ask.

"It's not like we're walking into hell or anything here," Gellert says.

"So much could go wrong," Luna says quietly.

"Luna, thoughts on Wulf?" I ask.

"You can trust him," Luna says.

"That wasn't very elucidating," I say. "Who was he really?"

"Wulf," Luna says.

"Who _else_ was he really?" I ask. "Naming Charm gave me some _very_ odd results."

Luna cocks her head thoughtfully. "I'm not sure. But I think we'll find out."

"Gellert, let's go," I say.

"Sujamma first." He gulps down the mug, sets it on the bar, and leaves a tip.

We head in through the gates. The Ghostfence always makes me uneasy. How many souls lay trapped within that forcefield, waiting for the day Dagoth Ur is no longer a threat so that they can be released? We make our slog through the Red Mountain area, occasionally squirting at a corprus victim that won't leave us alone but trying to reserve our potion for their boss. I'm hoping if I can cure him, I won't have to kill him.

One of those tentacle-faced Ascended Sleepers tried to accost us when we get into the complex at the heart of the mountain. We squirt it before it can even start monologuing and move on before it regains its senses long enough for me to even figure out whether it's a he or a she or otherwise.

"Nerevar!" Dagoth Ur's voice echoes through the halls. "I welcome you! Come to me, through fire and war!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I mutter. "You know, the Voryn Dagoth I used to know was never _quite_ so fond of the sound of his own voice."

"Like you can talk?" Gellert says wryly.

"Hush, you." I snicker.

Ignoring the booming voice of Dagoth Ur, we continue on. I pause and pull the coin out of my pocket, and give it a flip. I've never been one for games of chance, but I have a good feeling about this. The coin comes down and lands heads-up, and the face that is looking back at me is that of Wulf.

We eventually find where Dagoth Ur is, standing outside the Heart Chamber and waiting for us. Wearing nothing but a golden mask and a loincloth as usual.

"It is good to see your face again, Nerevar," Dagoth Ur says. "Have you and your companions come to join me?" He eyes our brightly colored weapons. "Or did you come to fight?"

"Neither," I say. "Water!"

I start spraying him with liquid, followed shortly by my friends joining in with the soaking.

"Water?" Gellert says.

"Can I really say 'fire' when we're shooting liquid?" I ask.

Gellert rolls his eyes.

We empty everything left in our soaker weapons onto Dagoth Ur and leave him dripping in a drenched loincloth. He shudders uncontrollably and doubles over, clutching his mask.

"Is it working?" Gellert asks.

"I think it's working," I say. "I'm not sure. Voryn, how do you feel?"

Dagoth Ur tears off his mask, throws back his head, and lets out a bloodcurdling scream. Far from looking _cured_ , his face appears to be _melting_.

"Is that supposed to happen?" Luna asks.

"That looks like what happens when you fuck up Shaping really badly," Rispy says. "Like every single failed attempt at setting up a Geneforge."

In an agonizing span of moments, there is nothing left of Dagoth Ur but a fizzing pool of sludge on the ground.

"Voryn?" I call out. "Did that actually kill you, or are you going to respawn in a moment like a bastard?"

The silence is broken only by the continued effervescent sounds from the pool that used to be Dagoth Ur, like a spill of the multiverse's worst soft drink.

"So… should we just scrape him off the floor?" Rispy asks.

"I wonder what would happen if we soaked the Heart of Lorkhan," Gellert says.

"Fortunately for us, we're out of gene-fluid so you can't try it," I say.

I head into the Heart Chamber, empty but for the Heart of Lorkhan and Dagoth Ur's giant robot. How could I forget about the giant robot? He'd planned to activate it with the power of a god and use it to take over the world. Such backwards thinking. If you had the power of a god, why do you need a giant robot to take over the world? I mean, giant robots are cool and all but that seems like going about it in entirely the wrong way.

"Voryn?" I call out. "Are you in here? Are you still… alive, or existing, or whatever?"

No response.

"So, what are you planning to do with the giant robot?" Gellert asks, strolling in behind me.

"I don't know yet," I say. "I'm sure we'll think of something. Is he really dead?"

"I think so," Luna says. "I'm not detecting any sign of him anymore."

"I don't know if that gene fluid actually severed his connection to the Heart of Lorkhan, but it seems to have certainly _disrupted_ it enough to fuck with his revival mechanism. Why did it have that effect on him? The woman Rispy sprayed was fine."

"Didn't you put different formulas into each gun?" Rispy asked.

"Oh yeah," I say. "That's true. I wanted to be sure _something_ would be effective."

"They probably interfered with one another," Rispy says. "Lethally."

"I guess I'll need to try something a little more carefully if I want him to survive," I muse.

"Survive?" Gellert repeats. "Seriously? You know what, we solved our big problem in this universe up until the Oblivion Crisis. I'm counting this as a win." He deploys a gate to the portable palace and casts the Temporal Mark spell.

"I didn't want to actually have to kill him," I say.

Luna puts a hand on my arm. "He chose his path long ago, Stormseeker."

"I know," I sigh.

"You can't save everyone," Luna says quietly. "Not without taking away their freedom of choice."

I look at the floor. "And he chose a path that precludes coexistence."

"And maybe it wasn't your formula that was wrong," Luna says. "Maybe it was the lucky coin."

"How is it luck to kill a friend when I was trying to save him?" I ask.

"Maybe you _did_ save him," Luna says.

"He's dead," I say. "How is that salvation?"

"Do you not believe in rebirth?" Luna asks.

I stare at her quietly and have no answer. Of course I do, though. It's a proven fact across multiple universes. But I never really thought of things in those terms before.

"I'm going to scrape Dagoth Ur off the floor into a bucket and take it to Tom," Gellert says lightly, heading off to do that.

"I'd best sort out my documentation of the effects of each strain of the gene-fluid," I say, taking a long look at the Heart again. "And then figure out what to do with the giant robot and the Heart of Lorkhan. I should let Vivec know what happened, too. I'm sure he'll love to hear about how I don't need to break the stupid Heart."

As I turn to enter the gate, a translucent image of Azura shimmers into existence in front of me and I freeze in my tracks.

"Nerevarine," Azura says. "Hortator."

"Azura," I reply. "And I never actually became Hortator."

"You have destroyed your foe, and two of the false gods," Azura says. "But one yet lives, and you did not destroy the Heart."

I scowl at her. "You didn't tell me to. That was never part of our bargain. All you asked of me was to come here."

"I left my prophecies to guide you," Azura says.

"I fulfilled _some_ of them," I say. "I have no interest in being bound by prophecy."

"You _must_ destroy the Heart of Lorkhan, lest anyone abuse it again," Azura says, more urgently this time.

"No," I say flatly.

Azure gazes at me for a long moment, perhaps finally realizing that this time, she has no hold over me. "Do you seek to use its power for yourself, then? To make yourself a new false god to rule over Tamriel?"

I snort softly. "Fuck no. I don't need this thing." I look over toward it again. "I'll take apart the giant robot. It's too dangerous to use and I've got better ideas for robots myself. I don't need to take someone else's. And I'm going to seal off this mountain and confiscate the Dwemer tools."

"You are not afraid of being tempted by them?" Azura asks.

I quirk a grin at her. "There is no temptation. There is only choice."

"What of your friends?" Azura asks.

"I have faith in them," I say.

"What of Vivec?" Azura presses.

"Yeah, not going to let him mess with it, either," I say. "It was a bad idea then and it's a bad idea now."

"Very well, then," Azura says. "I can ask no more of you. You are free from the burden of prophecy. Do as you will and live your life as you choose."

* * *

Vivec takes in the news passively, with a longsuffering expression and barely-restrained snickers.

"I know you were hoping to find a way to save him, but perhaps this is for the best," Vivec says.

"I really don't see how," I say. "Luna said the same thing. Am I the only one who is actually broken up about this?"

"Yes," Vivec says, lips quirking.

"Can you go back to spouting nonsense like Vivec, and not being snarky like Gellert, please?" I say with a smirk. "It's distressing."

"Can I be both?" Vivec says. "I do have two faces, after all."

I put my head in my hands.

"I have a Water Face and a Fire Face," Vivec continues. "I wrote only of the Water Face. The Water Face only speaks truth. The Fire Face always lies."

"You can speak lies with the truth and the truth with lies, though," I say.

Vivec grins. "Remember when I told you to reach heaven through violence and you took this to mean you should go to the moon Masser and attack ghosts?"

I groan. "Do you have to remind me?"

"You never understood my lessons," Vivec says. "You are wiser now, but how much do you truly understand?"

"The wise man knows he is a fool," I reply. "Everything I do makes a mess of things and never does what I expect. But how can I seek the outcome I wish when I don't know what, precisely, it is that I really want?"

"Most people spend a lifetime trying to answer that question," Vivec says.

"And I've probably spent a thousand lifetimes at it," I say. "'Freedom for all beings' is something I can always get behind, but what does that really _mean_?"

"But it was a thousand lifetimes you do not remember," Vivec says.

"Yes," I say. "I remember being Nerevar. I remember being Darth Revan. I even remember being Harry Potter. And all that time I was too busy trying to _save_ the universe from something I felt was urgent to be too concerned about what sort of world I might try to work toward. And now, here? I'm still doing the same thing. First Dagoth Ur, then next the Oblivion Crisis. Where does it end?"

"The Oblivion Crisis…" Vivec murmurs. "Perhaps you are not always the only one destined to save the world."

"No one is destined for anything," I say. "Fuck destiny. But nobody else rose to the challenge in the last universe."

Vivec cocks his head. "And what makes you so certain that no one will this time?"

"I can't be certain," I say with a sigh.

" _Live_ , Nerevar," Vivec says. "Only through living will you learn what it is you are trying to save."

I nod slowly. "I've done what prophecy demanded of me. I don't see how I can prepare for the Oblivion Crisis. What would I say, anyway? 'Everyone be ready to fight, because in a few years daedra will show up and kill everyone'? Some people in Mournhold tried that and Ayem silenced them for it. Doomsayers are never welcome."

"Perhaps it is not truly your responsibility," Vivec says. "Is it not arrogance to believe that something cannot be done simply because you could not do it?"

I throw up my hands and sigh. "I hate that you have a point."

"You are free," Vivec says. "Seek what you need for yourself."


	9. Calm

I feel more relaxed than I have been in some time. If nothing else, the constant shadow of Dagoth Ur isn't still looming over me, and while there are other problems in the world that might crop up in the near future, there shouldn't be anything of widespread trouble for a while yet.

I spend some time in Clockwork City, studying with Tom. Sirius seems to have taken his boyfriend's abrupt transformation in stride. Really, though, if he could handle Tom suddenly being a lizard, I don't think anything else is likely to faze him. And if Seht's disciples think anything much of their lord having a human boyfriend, they're wise enough not to say so.

"T— _Seht_ ," I say. "I had a very strange encounter in Ghostgate on the way to fighting Dagoth Ur."

"Oh?"

"An old man, called himself Wulf," I say. "But his aura was _very strange_." I describe what I saw. "He gave me this." I pull the coin out of my pocket and show it to him.

Tom takes the coin and scowls as he examines it closely. "This is a divine artifact."

"I kind of suspected as much," I say.

"You encountered an aspect of a god," Tom says. "Talos, if I'm not mistaken. Also known as Tiber Septim, the founder of the Third Empire, who is said to have been elevated to divine status for… no clear reason. I should spend some time analyzing this artifact and see what I can learn."

"No," I say, holding out my hand. "It was freely given to me and I will not abuse it."

Tom gives me a long look as though he wants to argue the point, but sighs and passes it over. "As you wish. I feel as though we are missing out on an opportunity, though."

"Maybe," I say with a shrug, putting it back in a pocket.

"I have been curious as to how Talos attained godhood, and _whether_ he actually did or if his worship in the Empire was merely a cult following of an important man. This, however, is proof that he _did_ actually attain godhood somehow."

"He said one thing I felt was odd," I say. "That he could go no further. Like he _couldn't_ approach Red Mountain."

"That he couldn't approach the Heart of Lorkhan," Tom says. "That he needed you to carry a piece of his essence there. Intriguing. This could imply a possible connection to Lorkhan in some way."

I nod thoughtfully. "Luna suggested that it may have been the coin that disrupted Dagoth Ur's revival mechanism and made his death stick."

"A good theory," Tom says. "I believe I'm going to Direnni Tower. Perhaps they will be more willing to deal with Sotha Sil than they were with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I would dearly like to know if the place is a Nexus."

"Good idea," I say. "You're taking Sirius and Remus with you as usual I assume?"

"And Hermione," Tom says. "I believe she has already read every book in Vvardenfell three times by now. There might be some books in High Rock she hasn't read yet. You are welcome to remain here and return whenever you like. I have instructed my apostles that you are to be permitted to come and go as you please and be given full access to everything."

"Thanks," I say. "I'm going to need to stop by this tower and see it for myself sometime, but I have other things to do in the meantime."

Clockwork City. I'd always dreamed of something like this. I'm not going to squander this opportunity. Maybe I'll wind up having to study the place five years at a time, but that's alright. But still, all things considered, this place shouldn't even be affected by the Oblivion Crisis, should it? I still haven't quite figured out just _where_ it's actually located. One of many questions I'd love to hear an answer to.

First things first, I disassemble Dagoth Ur's giant robot and store the pieces in a room in the portable palace. I'll take some time to study it, but not just yet. My thoughts can't help but drift back to Dagoth Ur. Voryn Dagoth. Luna was right. His mistakes were his own, and he brought himself to his own end when he spread his blight upon Vvardenfell. Even though he was once my friend, I could not have ignored all the people he'd harmed along the way and would continue to do so if we hadn't stopped him. But, rebirth? A hope for redemption for everyone, maybe. He probably won't remember anything, though. Most of the time, souls don't remember anything of their previous lives the next time they're spun out into the world. He won't really be the same person if he doesn't remember anything, will he?

I shake my head. That's a silly line of thought. By that logic, _I've_ never been the same person because of how many times I've forgotten myself, again and again and again. I would have been a shiny new person every single time, and while my behavior has been erratic and unpredictable — thank you for that, Rispy — from the few lives I _do_ remember, there have been fundamental things that never change. I'm shaped by my experiences, but I'm always the same person.

So what does that really mean for Voryn? He won't remember anything. But the core of him, what really makes him _him_ , won't change. His soul won't change. But he'll have a clean slate, and freedom to shape his new life however he chooses. Maybe he'll make terrible mistakes that lead him to another bitter end, but that's entirely up to him. He has the power in his hands to make something good for his life instead. He always did. We all always do. Is that what freedom really means, then?

I've always been afraid of dying, of really _dying_ and my existence _ending_. But that isn't even the case for most people. That's why the soulfire spell Suzcecoz had developed was such an unspeakably heinous thing that she forced us to take an Unbreakable Vow before she'd teach it to us. Only to ever use it if the multiverse were at stake and all other options had been exhausted. It's comforting as well as horrifying to have that final safety net, and one I could have never used against Dagoth Ur. Whatever he had done, he didn't deserve to cease to exist for all time. Is anyone truly so irredeemable as to deserve that fate?

And so… I am calm. I let go. I don't need to agonize over anyone's death. No one over my lifetimes that I have failed to save, or 'abandoned' in uncertain timelines. Their fate is their own and their future in their own hands. A multiverse worth of failures were too much for one person to bear, and now I feel so light.

(And still trying very hard not to think too much about how I don't believe the universe is real.)

So. I work. I study. I head out from time to time to have a drink at my favorite pub.

I visit Direnni Tower. Tom left a gate from the portable palace there for convenience. The gate room inside the palace currently has over a dozen gates to various places in it, each of them carefully labeled and even more carefully sealed against anyone but us being able to activate them. Anyone else can only come through if they come with us. Considering all that's happened and what's to come, I have no argument for the paranoia.

"Ah, good, you're here," Tom says.

I lay my eyes upon the tower. Maybe that should be a Tower with a capital T. It looms impossibly into the sky before me, seamless and smooth as though shaped rather than built.

"What have you learned?" I ask.

Tom snorts softly. "As it turns out, I need not have bothered. While the Direnni have been very polite toward me, they have been no more willing to work with me on this project than they were with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. They keep their secrets and bar everyone else."

"That's unfortunate," I say.

"Not that I would generally permit that to stop me, of course," Tom says. "But they are also trained in mental magic sufficiently well that I was forced to reset when they caught on to me attempting to mind control one of them."

"I was wondering what that was about," I say with a smirk.

"From what I have been able to gather, which is honestly no more than before, they rankle over their failure to unlock the secrets of what they call the 'Zero Stone'. Each member of the Direnni bloodline goes down to touch this stone once in their lives in hopes of opening the 'Argent Aperture'. Sometimes toward the end of their lives they go back down to try again, and wind up dead or mad."

"Hmm," I hmm.

"Yes," Tom says. "Hmm indeed. I would dearly like to at least examine this stone, but they won't let me in. Me! The Living God Sotha Sil, of all people! They should be honored at the prospect of working with me."

"But they aren't impressed," I say flatly.

"No," Tom says. "They are not. I have theories I want to test! Fortunately, there are other angles I intend to look into as well. While this is Tower Zero, it is not the only tower. Others were built reflecting this one. White-Gold Tower in the Imperial City in Cyrodiil is considered 'Tower One', although there is a tower in the Summerset Isles that was reputedly actually built before it, called Crystal-Like-Law."

"Will either of _those_ places let you just walk inside and poke around?" I ask.

"I aim to find out," Tom says. "As it turns out, Imperial City is where we should be examining anyway if we are to determine the precise sequence of events that precede the Oblivion Crisis. But I would like to take a side-trip to Summerset in the interim."

"So, are we just, done with Morrowind for now, then?" I ask.

"Seems so," Tom says. "I'd keep an eye on it just in case something stupid happens in the meantime, though."

"I never did become Hortator," I say. "It just didn't seem that important, in the end."

"Yes," Tom says. "And I was working toward becoming Archmagister of House Telvanni."

"Seriously?" I ask.

"It would have gotten me a mushroom tower of my very own along the way, too," Tom says. "But now I have a Clockwork City and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead."

"Aw, but I want a mushroom tower!" I whinge.

Tom rolls his eyes. "Then go get some rank in House Telvanni. There's nothing stopping you."

"At this point I feel like that would be the mighty Nerevar collecting sload soap," I say.

"Just violently convince them you're above such menial tasks, then," Tom says with a shrug. "They're Telvanni. They don't give a fuck who you are."

"Maybe some other life," I say. "Do you suppose anyone in Cyrodiil will have any idea who I am?"

"Probably not," Tom says. "The Dunmer might have heard of you, of course. I doubt anyone else will care. Go by whichever name you wish. And I'm certain you are good enough with illusions to look like whatever you wish as well." He smirks. "You go to all this trouble to become known and then wish to become unknown again?"

"We're gathering information," I say. "Sometimes that can be best done by someone who is no one."

"And sometimes a known name can open doors that would otherwise be closed," Tom says. "We have companions whose names are not widely known, particularly in Cyrodiil. No one is going to care about low-to-middling ranked members of the Great Houses or the guilds. We, however, have the big names that could get us access to different information. We might as well use them."

"I see your point," I say. "Alright."

* * *

"They wouldn't let me into Crystal-Like-Law either," Tom says. "Although I got some very interesting observations from outside of it, at least. Hermione is sorting out my notes now. If there's a Nexus here, they're keeping close wraps on it."

I smirk. "So much for the big names getting doors to open, eh?"

Tom scowls. "I am certain that I am simply going about this the wrong way. I need to throw around my influence more, make some offers… but the damned Altmer are too proud to accept the help of an outsider, even a god."

"Maybe send Brax in," I suggest. "He's an Altmer."

"Maybe," Tom says. "Send him to Summerset and we can take over whatever he's doing in Cyrodiil."

We make contact with him, as well as hook up with Caius Cosades again. The Blades aren't very happy about us wanting to send one of their most skilled operatives on a very important and very unspecified mission, but I need to convince Caius to tell them _something_ along with the promise of additional help.

"What is this about, anyway?" Caius asks.

"Research," I say. "Since he's an Altmer, we think Abraxas might have better luck getting into Crystal-Like-Law than we did."

"Why do you want inside the Crystal Tower?" Caius wonders. "I'm guessing this is for your… special circumstances?"

"Yes," I say. "That's exactly it. At least, we think it might hold some important key point. I hope this isn't another dead end. Meanwhile, the threat of Dagoth Ur has been neutralized and the rest of us are planning on refocusing our attention on Cyrodiil and… upcoming events that we haven't briefed you on yet."

Caius groans. "You have new information?"

"You're not going to like it," I say.

"I rarely feel like I like _anything_ you tell me," Caius says. "But any forewarning is better than nothing. There's already enough unrest and signs of trouble brewing and I'd really like to know what's up with that."

"In 433, the Emperor and his sons are assassinated," I say. "Leaving the throne empty."

"Shit," Caius utters. "Well, we still have a few years to prevent that, at least."

"It gets worse," I go on. "Following that, Oblivion Gates start opening all over Tamriel. Daedra pour out and slaughter people. The world burns."

"By all the gods," Caius breathes. "That had to have all been very carefully orchestrated, in order to get them all at the same time and set that invasion up."

I nod in agreement. "I was unable to get more information about how it happened, and some… base parameters in that particular timeline are different here, which would make my information questionable in and of itself. It might not happen at the same time in this universe."

"Without any further details, there's nothing to be done but keep a careful watch," Caius says.

"I don't plan on just watching," I say. "We're going to delve into the secrets of Cyrodiil and find out anything we can."

"What of Morrowind?" Caius asks.

"It can take care of itself," I say. "One of my companions is continuing to keep an eye on the place and will alert us if anything happens that requires our attention."

Kirlin had opted to remain in Morrowind and be the goddess Almalexia should have been. She had plans to tour Vvardenfell to help and heal those she could before moving on to a wider tour of the mainland afterward. At least I doubt she'll have any trouble keeping up the facade around people who only knew her as a distant face to pray to, and not the ones who interacted with her on a day-to-day basis.

"Let me know if you find out anything relevant, then," Caius says. "I'll continue to act as your go-between, since I already know about your _special circumstances_ and I don't think it's necessary for that to get spread around any further."

I nod. "Can't argue with that. At least a lot of the weirdness around me can now be written off as the whole 'reincarnation of ancient Chimer general' thing. Which most people who aren't Dunmer won't care about anyway." I snicker softly. "Plus I'm House Telvanni. There's enough weirdness in House Telvanni to fill a scroll that winds around the entire coast of Tamriel."

"Just be careful," Caius says. "I don't think I really need to warn you of that. Who knows what could happen if you tip off these assassins that you're onto them?"

"I will," I promise. "We'll keep in touch."

Maybe this isn't my responsibility. Maybe some other Hero will rise to the occasion and save the world again. But I'm less worried about it than I otherwise might have been, and I have no reason _not_ to look into it. I'm curious as much as anything else. And in the meantime, I might be able to find some clues that will get me out of this world, whether that be through a Nexus or gate or something else entirely.

* * *

Time passes.

Rispy settles in with the Fighters Guild in Cyrodiil, and Hermione with the Mages Guild. Sirius very carefully sneaks back into Imperial City and makes contact with the Thieves Guild again. Remus heads back to Skyrim for a bit to make contact with the Companions again. I find myself wanting to get into the Arcane University in Imperial City myself, for the resources if nothing else, not to mention seeing if they have any unique books that might provide useful information. Alas, the place is well-protected, and I feel that simply breaking in would not be useful. I want to be able to actually get in there and read and such, after all. I can be patient enough to gain entry legitimately.

This apparently leads to a huge mess of nonsense requiring me to travel to each of the guild branches in every major city in Cyrodiil and gain their recommendations, and every single branch leader has another stupid task for me to perform. They don't know who I am. They don't _care_ who I am. They just want their roads cleared of bandits and their trinkets recovered. Fine, I don't mind killing people and finding things. I'm good at that, after all. And people are grateful for the help. In the process, I look over the selection of books at each guild branch, although I don't see anything particularly unusual. Nothing that isn't already in Hermione's collection at any rate.

For the most part, though, I just let myself live and breathe the world around me. It's a nice enough place. Cyrodiil is nothing like Morrowind and I find myself missing the giant mushrooms and insects. Horses have nothing on a silt strider. Funny how shocked I was at first to learn that people rode around in giant bugs with levers attached to their nerves, up until I got used to it.

We're running out of time, and I still have no clues. Every lead we've run across went dry, or turned out to be some completely unrelated problem. Turns out that Cyrodiil has quite a lot of completely unrelated problems.

And then I hear rumor of a mysterious door, and I know I have to check it out.


End file.
